Up, down, up, down, left, right, left right... I stroked the brush across the canvas, leaving no white spaces, creating the image my mind saw. It wasn't perfect, it certainly wouldn't sell for a million dollars, but it was art. It was mine. I could see the dancer in the painting moving, twirling around the empty room I'd drawn. And while no one else might be able to see her face, I knew she was happy with how her pirouette had turned out. That's the thing about art. No one sees the same thing.
4 June 11, 2022, 14:56 6A dancer stands behind the closed curtains of the theater stage. Insecurity is twined with her joy of finally fulfilling her dream. She takes her spot at the center, a light shining brightly on her. Brass and nickel shine and creak as she leaps into the air, the gears on her metal leg holding strong. She twirls and jumps, a graceful dance taking place. The theater is wild, applause comes from every spectator. Her dream is fulfilled as she sees the joy in everyone's eyes.
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