The harp purrs, it's tone pitching up and down, and the music rolls off its strings. The notes are like dancers, their feet pit-patting across the ground in quick, graceful steps, then spinning, and turning and jumping into the air, their bodies curved.
They were silent, their feet made no sound when they landed, and they crouched, bending low, sweeping one leg in a circle around them before rising in a twirl. Their forms were fluid and smooth, and when they jumped, it seemed effortless, bounding across the stage with long leaps. Then their steps became more abrupt, more hurried, with sharp, quick turns and twists, darting zig-zaggedly on the stage, swirling in graceful circles before becoming hasty and sharp again, the fluidity replaced by a poise of confidence, then hesitation, then shyness, before finally elation, as they bowed and twisted and leaped across the stage, their forms flowing with their movements, swaying like paper.
Then the music stopped, and they collasped, the lights were down and then the darkness crept in, and it was the end.
Run-on sentences galore. Wheee!
Now listening to: "La noyée", Yann Tiersen, Amélie OST
