Cairo, the 9th July, 2010

And then they came...


Ohhh...and then they came, my dear egyptians. They requested my name and that I knew from reservation people at the NILE MAXIM (the only way I am allowed to know this stuff nowadays)and they made my night.

I dance better when people come to see my show expecting to see and feel the BEST.
I dance better when my heart is jumping with joy or totally smashed and rolling into deep sadness. I use it ALL in my dance and, thanks God, it becomes ALIVE.

I dance better when the worst critic I listen is: she does something strange that is not quite belly dance but it's still oriental...(I particularly like this one!). You cannot define me, you just can't. And I love that you can't.
I am the weak and the strong. I am the freezing cold and the burning hot. I am the bad and the good. The white and the black. The light and the shadow.

You cannot define me. You just can't.
I am unlimited like the portuguese sea.

Because you cannot define me as a person, you hardly can define me as a dancer. I change as the wind changes and my movement flies away with my ever flowing emotion. What I was a minute ago cannot be applied to the present moment and the way I danced yesterday is dead only to give place to a new moment, new breath, new heart, new DANCE.

And then they came and their eyes met mine only to make me feel that my art is useful and comunicates with their soul and there's nothing more an artist can wish for.

And then they came - my dear egyptians - and my sadness was transformed into a miracle of BEAUTY and JOY. And then they came and my inner joy - that cannot be destroyed by circumstances - rose up and revealed itself like a sunrise.

And then they came and my night was transformed.
And I was transformed. Forever.