Back to work on my new baby (book).
Asking a professional dancer to sit and remain still for hours writing a book is never easy. But books don´t get written by themselves so here we go.
Between constant work trips around the world, daily online classes, logistics and private life (with a new home move), I return to the book which first took me to Egypt. It´s not one but several volumes of a story which is becoming bigger, and more interesting, than I could ever have imagined. Bigger than myself, my personal path, my vision of things; bigger than I intended it to be.
When I feel weak, exhausted or empty (no more faith in myself or/and in the book), I remember a certain teacher – Isabel Pimenta – who once got on a classroom table and, pointing at me, yelled with absolute faith: “this girl´s gonna be a writer”.
That was new for me.
I was the cute, blond, blue eyed girl who hanged out with Gipsies and African “retornados” from the Portuguese ex-colonies. I lead my own gang and circulated in places the police didn´t go. During class, I remained with the wrong side of society, though silently, hidden in the last row of chairs. My hand was never lifted, even when I knew the answer to the teacher´s question. Playing the underdog was as comfortable for teachers as it was for me.
They didn´t understand who I was, on which shelf they could fit me in.
In fact, they couldn´t. I didn´t fit in any existing shelf. All I wanted was the freedom to be myself – no labels attached. None presumed I was intelligent or capable of becoming anything worthy of mentioning. They doubted every time they saw my tests´results and the things I´d written on them: “did you do this yourself?”, they´d ask, sure I´d copied everything from the smart kid in the class.
But not Isabel Pimenta. She read my (crazy) stuff out loud – feet on the table, hair flying along with words that flowed from her passionate – huge – mouth. She read me beyond appearances; believed in me. Because she did, I started to believe. This is the power an exceptional teacher can have upon us – a simple word of appreciation can change our whole life.
On the practical – realistic – side of things, I admit: I´m not a writer – I´m an artist who has chosen dance as her main language. But I DO write. And I will complete this baby. It´s the word I´ve given to myself. To life.(My destiny).
P.S: Never, ever, quit on a dream that sets your soul on fire.