After six hours of practice, he still isn’t satisfied enough. The pursuit of perfection for a dancer is a brutal muse. He won’t stop for the day until he has one more round at the barre. One more developpe from fifth position that he’s done a million times since he was 8. One more stretch of the hamstring still healing from the tear last season. One more leg hold with the appropriately lifted torso. One more, and maybe he’ll be satisfied. His eyes are closed, ignoring the coos and murmurs of admiration from the female dancers. This is his zone. Him and ballet are one. When he’s in that studio, he exists only to dance.

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Late night ballet reblog time~