How do you dance through life? With honour? An aim of perfection? Filled with doubt, spinning on the heel of self loathing? If you found perfection - for a moment - would you doubt it and substitute another reality until at the edge of absurdity? As self mockery? So one diminishes it by altering the steps until it is to all appearances, effortless and natural? Buried beneath what is usual? And by the sign on others faces you are reduced to a walk alone and that is all you need?

Do you dance alone? With someone or just with those whom you meet? You control their experience of your intentions within them? If a woman, then the development of the smile from the Pan Am to the Duchenne and thence the Coy. Is the coy always a triumph. Should you care. 

Someone said:

"Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean; the world has grown grey from thy breath;
We have drunken of things Lethean, and fed on the fullness of death.
Laurel is green for a season, and love is sweet for a day;
But love grows bitter with treason, and laurel outlives not May."

Now, here is someone who danced with precision and grace, in his art as well as his life.