For me, there is nothing more beautiful than the human body and its movement.
I love to watch it. It's exhilarating. Male or female, it's all the same to me. I see sheer beauty in its fluidity, in the lines, in the curves of the muscles, the ripples of movement under the skin of a dancer or an acrobat.
The moments those people fly in the air and mock gravity.
The moments those people mock death himself.
So many hours, days, months, years into perfecting your movement, into making your body the statement.
Into letting your body speak, sing and scream its defiance to any and all boundaries.
So many refusals in order to make your body a living work of art. So much pain.
And although they know death waits for them at the end of the road like it waits for each of us, they choose the path of pain and perfection. Even though they know that their body will eventually fail them.
And yet, when those people fly in the air and forget to land on the ground,
when those people move their body in ways that remind to the rest of us too that
the impossible is nothing but a leap of faith and miracles demand only a lifetime of dedication.
I think the least we all owe them is those moments of stupefied wonder and gratitude for allowing us again a glimpse in paradise.
Here is an example: