I have reoccurring dreams of ballerinas in straitjackets,
bending completely at the waist until their bodies snap in
half like weak branches. And although their torsos lay
motionless their legs keep dancing and they are as graceful
and agile as they ever were. When I awake I remind myself it
is okay to feel constricted, it is okay to fall to pieces,
but I must keep moving despite the disconnect, I must act
inherently natural despite how unnatural it has all
become.
— Lucy Quin