I love Nijinsky. As a youth I read everything I could find on him. I longed over the historic photos that survived. It isn’t that I wanted to be a dancer it’s just that his story, his strange, wonderful, intense life spoke to me.
Touched the very center of my Soul.
Perhaps It’s good that we’re separated by half a world, and now more than a century of apocalyptic history. Otherwise I would have followed him about.
If I were 15 or 16 had access to a time machine, and could speak French, Russian, and German I’d be his shadow.
Plot for a short story.
A Queer colored teenager from the 21st century pursues the object of his confused desires. All this amid the intrigues of 1911 Moscow.
I can see her now, Romola, Nijinsky’s long suffering wife sits me down in my hearts desires study. She pours me mint tea.
“…young man”
“You must understand my husband is very busy.”
Steam curls above my cup.
“His work is very important, and he can’t be disturbed”
“I just want to see him for a moment” I say.
“Please, I just want to look into his eyes”
“To see his soul”
“I must understand him”
“I wish the same, said Romola,…so do we all that love him.”
Steam curls above my cup.
“His work is very important, and he can’t be disturbed”
“I just want to see him for a moment” I say.
“Please, I just want to look into his eyes”
“To see his soul”
“I must understand him”
“I wish the same, said Romola,…so do we all that love him.”
That’s as far as I take this time portal.
How to explain to Romola my time machine becoming a lad again or Twitter.
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