“…Nijinsky”

This a little story I did near 20 years ago. 

I love Nijinsky. As a youth I read everything I could find on him. I longed over the photos that survived. It wasn’t that I wanted to be a dancer. It’s that his story, his difficult creative life spoke to me. Touched my soul. Perhaps It’s good that we were separated by half a world, and more than a century of apocalyptic history. 

If I were 16 had a time machine, and could speak French, Russian, and German I’d be his shadow. A Queer colored teenager from the 21st century pursues the object of his wonder. All this amid the intrigues of 1911 Moscow. 

I can see it 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.

“His work is very important, and he can’t be disturbed”

I sip.

“I want to see him. Please. I want to look into his eyes. To see his soul. I must understand him”

Romola offering gingered bread.

“I wish the same,…so do we all that love him.”

That’s as far as I take this.

How to explain to Romola my time machine becoming a lad again or YouTube.