BLACK SHOES

Heel. 

Toe.

Back.

Chin. 

 

The girls from choreography class ran through the halls, and I knew and I felt the hairpins digging into their heads. How tightly the hair is pulling down, how the stretched out toe becomes numb, how the whole body twists into a thin spiral, how frantically you dances off the same step —  hysterically, tinkling, boldly, firmly.

 

Ta-ta-tam,

Ta-ta-tam.

 

I remember this beat from my childhood. I know how to keep my head, no matter what happens. 

 

But something happened. 

 

We had been dating one thousand four hundred and sixty-one days, and no one knew about it. Twenty-three days ago he wrote that he didn't feel anything anymore. After that I thought I wanted to buy black shoes. Stupid black shoes. To stomp all the pain out of me. 

 

Hysterically, tinkling, boldly, firmly.

Ta-ta-tam,

Ta-ta-tam.

Performance was created for Art Prospect 2021 (Saint-Petersburg)

Production supported by Art Prospect Festival