we stood in silence as we looked at the painting, an impressionistic of a woman in which the artist had let the paint run from her figure, sliding into the surrounding colours as if she were falling, melting into the background

a spanish girl, dancing with such a sadness and passion that for a moment i couldn’t turn my eyes away

her red skirt flung to the side, face and arms stretching to the sky as her body curved with dramatic grace

she looks like she’s falling apart, said the boy

perhaps that’s why she dances, i said