Dance, when you are broken open.
Dance, if you have torn the bandage off.
Dance, in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance, when you are perfectly free.
                                                               Maulana Rumi


Storytelling on Winged Feet

A single beat rings out in the hushed silence. A form moves with the rising music, almost ethereal in its fluidity, liquid in its grace. Expressions, gestures, music, rhythm, movement all come together and tell stories – from ecstatic celebrations of life to abject pathos and misery. The effect is mesmerizing. The dance, ancient. And its language, universal.