Tightrope, high hopes.

Who said you couldn’t dance in a wheelchair? Well, this is a current affair that is being addressed in various medias. Any other fellow Gleek will have seen that episode where Archie gives up on his dream to be a dancer because he is a wheel chair. I think maybe the producers of the show should have got tickets to see Tightrope this weekend in Hammersmith. Trust me the trip from L.A would have been well worth it.
The show put on by Amici really put things into perspective for the whole of the audience watching. From start to finish, they kept us breathless and teary-eyed and I’m not usually the emotional type. I think I cried at least 4 times. Everything reached perfection in this colourful and powerful performance.



The show started with a very powerful piece where a paralysed dancer gracefully glided across the floor soon followed by a flood of ladies holding white umbrellas and holding them around him, making a screen on which was projected some footage of a tightrope dancer. Dreams are achievable if your belief is strong enough is exactly what you are thinking when, at this very point, the very same man bursts through the umbrellas and into the air, flying across stage.
That was the first time I cried. Running time: 2 minutes?



No amount of description will make this show any justice. Every participant was better than the other! But I just want to point out the other scenes that really got me.
First was a beautiful rendition of a Carmen scene, which for this circus was called The Love Pyramid. An ex- ballerina paralyzed from the waist down and her dance partners got the audience whooping and cheering at their romantic dance piece, on and off the wheelchair. I felt so much pride and admiration for this beautiful young woman, she was just so captivating and inspiring with her determination.
Then the duet between two severely paralysed dancers took me away again. They gracefully circled around, hands reaching out for each other, smiling wide enough to blind you!
It wasn’t just emotional, it was also really funny, with the strong men act and the opera singer failing trying to reach a high note … The full house audience was just always on edge to see what would be next.



This amazing performance was crowned with the final message that the company put through with the amazing ending. Two suited men, representing a corporate and norm-following society decide that these are no real artist and “burn” their circus down. How very accurately said. An amazing statement to what the arts are reduced to these days.: “Conform to what is commercial or you will be turned into irrelevant ash”.
But hope always lurks around the corner.
As for the Amici Circus, they represented this by each performer rising from that ash, holding a red balloon, brandishing them proudly over their heads. The great stage directing made the lighting fall onto the balloons to make them look like 20 red lanterns floating up.
It was a brilliant finale to a brilliant show, which really deserved that standing ovation.

For more information on Amici,, look them up on http://www.amicidance.org/

Endless romance

You hold my hand and lead me through infinite magic,
You whisper softly, that there are none like me.

You hold me so tight, that I forget to breathe.

I become the character of a classic black and white movie,
In which we are caught in an endless waltz,
Yet the colors around us have never seemed so bright and beautiful.

Maybe it is what we are, the essence of an endless romance,
In which your mouth has been perfectly painted to fit my lips,
And where your hand has been made to never leave mine.

Resuscitation Pascale.

Et voila une résolution pas vraiment tenue! Ecrire toutes les semaines, et garder la trace de mon progrès ? Que nenni ! Enfin peut être que c’est que le progrès, bien que toujours en développement se fait plus long que prévu. Mais je ne vais pas me laisser avoir, parce qu’au bout du chemin, je sais ce qu’il m’attends !
D’ailleurs, ces deux dernières semaines, je me suis rendue compte que je m’éloignai du but et me suis remise à réorganiser mes priorités. Je suis toujours plus guidée dans ces moments la. Rencontres et sorties propices, moments d’espoirs relevés, me voilà prête a accepter un signe. Et arrive cet email : Recherche Producteurs pour mission caritative en Asie ou Afrique. Abe et moi sommes en train de préparer nos applications avec tous nos doigts croisés, même ceux des pieds, nos yeux rivés vers le ciel en prière constante. Cette entrée de blog est assez religieuse on dirait ? Mais bon, c’est Pacques après tout… et cette fois, c’est mon espoir de réussite et de changer le monde qui se ressuscite.
Allelujah.
Bonnes Fêtes a tous !
Fio.

Falling in Love

This poem is touching more on my surrealist work and will be the poem over one of the next short videos I will be making with my team!
This will be read in voice over as dancers will dance on the music and beat of the poem, representing the movement the mind and heart go through when one falls in love.
I hope to put this into production by the end of April, before flying off to Spain.
Enjoy!
Fio.

I rise and fall,
I fly and stumble,
Light as led,
Heavy as air

Caught in the eye of the cyclone
Sitting proud on my throne

There is nothing to be done
It still may come undone

Life is nothing but trouble
Love is all and humble

I watch you tremble
You see me assemble

The peace of your head
The pieces of my mind

Melted and forged

Like a flowing river
sliding down the hills of fever

gently falling on cotton fields,

clouds of warmth
towers of refuge
elation and strength .

By Fiona Cross

Caught in a feeling.

What can I say, being in love makes me want to write my heart out, to express those feelings endlessly in whatever form.
I want the world to see how amazing it feels. This is a poem or song lyrics I wrote for my man a while ago now.
Enjoy
x
Fio

PS: art work to follow

I’m stuck in a feeling,
Caught in a trance,
I’ve stopped breathing
And am locked in your glance.

The people around us
Are slowly fading out,
Blending smoothly into the hazyness of the night.

The music merges into me
I can no longer make the difference
Between the beats of my heart and the beats of drums.

I’m stuck in a feeling
Lost in our dance
Feels like I’m falling,
Held up by chance.

They’ve all disappeared
Only you’ve remained,
But the closer you get, the stronger the fear

I’ve waited so long
To be held in your arms
Something this strong could never go wrong.

I’m stuck in a feeling
Caught in a chance
Dancing on the ceiling
Yet frozen in your glance

There’s no way out now;
I’m melting in the embrace
ushered into a place
where we vanish without a trace.

I am nothing but a bare soul

To Abraham,
with love.

I feel my heart stopping
My eyes closing
My breath slowing
Softly,
until my body loses it every ache
It’s every strings
It’s every thing
And I am nothing but a bare soul
Shinning next to yours.
And I am nothing but a bare soul
Shinning next to yours.

But then you are gone again,
And my world looses its dimensions
Reflecting on me only it’s pain.

Life digs it’s shallowness back into my days
And I wander aimlessly between the hours and the days
That separate me from that one smile which will make my life worthwhile.

I feel my heart stopping
My eyes closing
My breath slowing
Softly,
until my body loses it every ache
It’s every strings
It’s every thing
And I am nothing but a bare soul
Shinning next to yours.
And I am nothing but a bare soul
Shinning next to yours

Paris

C’est la ville la plus romantique du monde. Je l’ai entendu des milliers de fois mais je ne le crois que depuis cette semaine. J’en suis rentrée il y a deux jours et je suis déjà en manque de Paris. Tout prends une couleur nouvelle là-bas, les sentiments sont renforcés, les yeux émerveillés et les cœurs tout amourachés. Le mien y compris. Je me mets a rêver de cette ville comme la mienne, cet appart dans le 16*, mon petit chez moi, ce café mon rendez vous quotidien pour écrire et manger autant d’éclairs au café que possible. Les étoiles semblent a portée de main.



Enfin ce voyage n’aurait pas été ce qu’il était si il n’avait pas été aussi bien accompagné !


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Je vois la tour Eiffel de la chambre de notre hôtel. Nous venons juste d’arriver et l’immeuble est vieux et un peu charmant. Notre chambre est la n*32, au 4 eme étage. Il faut monter un nombre infini d’escaliers en colimaçons avant d’y arriver.



La clef est en bronze dorée … Je vous le dis, je suis déjà charmée. On s’en fiche des hôtels 4 étoiles, du champagne, du service de chambre.


Nous sommes à Paris et le luxe se trouve dans nos Sentiments, pas nos revêtements. Quoiqu’il faut bien que j’avoue, nous allons faire jazzer Paris en ce soir de réveillon, lui dans son costume cravate et moi avec mon chapeau années 20 et mon châle en fausse fourrure de renard argenté ! Et puis notre sourire, qui a lui seul fera de l ‘ombre aux plus gros diamants.



Tout me paraît un peu magique ici… pourtant je n’ai pas toujours été fan de Paris, qui me semblait être un préconçu pour touristes ! Mais voilà, mettez moi dans le métro avec l’homme que j’aime a regarder défiler les stations aux noms les plus poétiques les unes que les autres (La muette, Jasmin, Michel Ange, Alma Marceau, Piquet Grenelle, des mots qui en fait, ne veulent pas dire grand chose mais qui sonnent a mon oreille comme un nouveau Français. Et voilà !





Je rentre donc dans cette chambre et par la fenêtre haute, derrière le pot de géraniums rouges, elle se dresse fière et sensuelle dans sa robe de dentelle noire et grise. Elle se fait belle car elle sait que dans quelques heures, revêtue de ses joyaux de fêtes elle illuminera les yeux émerveillées de centaines de personnes. Elle patientera et fera monter l’excitation générale jusqu'à l’heure ultime, ou aux douze coups de minuits, elle explosera de couleurs et de lumière pour nous annoncer le commencement de cette nouvelle année qui s’annonce déjà si… magique…
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