Pregled posta

''I LOVED THE PRESIDENT'' - DIANNA DIVERNO - ENGLISH VERSION

Down the starry infinity of the night, as if trying to overcome the roar of the wind and the loud bustle that, as always, circulated through the city that never sleeps – New York – the subtle sound of a ballet opera was heard. A few taxi drivers were sitting in their cars, somewhat idle, and there were other drivers sitting in luxuriously equipped new limousines, with the windows down halfway. Some of them smoked cigarettes, some yawned persistently with a marked boredom, while others were a little immersed in the dreaminess listening to the serious sound of classical music. A couple of passers-by passed by, not dwelling too long in front of the New York City Ballet Opera on Manhattan's West Side, or paying attention to the sound coming from there, which said that some ballet opera was well underway.
Down the stairs leading to the entrance, there was no one there. A few moments later, a thunderous applause was heard in the hall from the satisfied audience, who had been following the ballet performance that was performed there for almost two hours. Some of them sat in their boxes, satisfied with the position they occupied, only occasionally casting their glances towards the other lodges, the ladies patiently and with only a hint of envy stared at the other ladies and other lodges, measuring the new dress or hairstyle that she might have been wearing. And then they would focus again on the ballet performance that took place with three prima ballerinas and with all the other ballet dancers and ballerinas in that dance performance.
Now only the applause of the satisfied audience could be heard. Standing on the sidelines were several journalists from prominent New York City newspapers who wanted to record the ambience and the impression that the premiere of this ballet performance left on the audience. All the seats in the hall were occupied.
Ballerinas and ballet dancers bowed contentedly to the audience, which glowed under some impression that always faded after some successful new premiere performed on the stage of the New York Ballet Opera. Soon the players were heading backstage.
A young woman, one of the three prima ballerinas, was slowly walking towards her backstage. She was one of the few who had only her own space for peace and decoration. Now she was a little pensive as she walked towards the room, as if she wasn't in too much of a hurry. She thought about herself and all that she had left behind in the past ten years. Through her thoughts it went like a silent echo, like a text that always appeared from time to time in moments of her despondency, or when she asked herself whether it was right to find herself exactly where she was in the exceptional circumstances that had befallen her.
''My current name is Ana Mihajlovski. I was one of the first prima ballerinas at the New York Opera. As a ballerina, I'm dead to Hungary and Russia.
And it's best to keep it that way forever!"
And then she smiled, aware that she might now be in the best possible position in her life, she calmly put her hand down to the door of her backstage, ready to slowly get ready for a peaceful departure to her home that she had here.



Post je objavljen 09.07.2024. u 09:14 sati.