Marina Istomina
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