The stage is an ocean of light giving off the pale reflection of the illumination above. An audience waits with anticipation for the next performer. The rhythm of music arises like a thundering clap of lightning. My heart thumps like the fast beat of an exotic drum, my palms moistened with beads of sweat and my cheeks burn scarlet, as red as the scorching sun. I surrender to the music, allowing it to soak into my pores like a wet sponge. It devours my anxiety and modifies my mood, to one of pure delight. The stage is mine.
             I flow away from my frustrations that boil under my skin and express it through fluent, coordinated movement. Dancing like a raging wind, twisting like a snake around its prey, becoming a part of the music. The audience was captivated by the spell of my dance. One, two-step, one, two spins, one, two kick. I hear the counts echo in my mind as I lead arm after leg across the stage. I gaze out into the spectator's watchful eyes as my hip sways to the familiar beat. Foreign, this place is not. Like mother's arms, it eases me, as droplets of perspiration roll down my chest. A smile sketches its way across my face as I realize there is nothing in the world I'd rather be doing. I love to dance.
             A roar of "Go, Jamie" resonates its way onto the stage, and my ears receive with a passion to continue. This is the core of my solo. As the lights dimmed and quickly went out, the hall began to tremble with excitement. I started with a slow movement into an arabesque which just sent everyone into a frenzy. The stage seemed to move with no sign of stopping as if trying to keep up and realign with me. My body moved devoid of the need for the instruction of the mind.
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