Words don’t care.
These are my mother’s ballet shoes.
I danced for six years until my ballet instructor told me that I was too tall, my legs too long and apparently there was something wrong with my feet. She told me I was welcome to train more, have lessons six days a week, but in the end because of my body I would be nothing more than mediocre.
I dropped out of ballet school that day and returned to my first love: Writing. Paper doesn’t blush, ink is never judgmental and words don’t care if your legs are long.
Tired of reading? Listen to it!