But this time he had not been lying. The man was a master holding her with a lightness of touch that inspired greater confidence. A touch on her waist...sending her spinning away, then pause then back to his arms. The man controlled her movements with his whole body, eyes, hips, hands. As the dance progressed so did her enjoyment and she was soon daring him to be bolder and more adventurous with the steps. Her hair had come down by now and was whipping around her pale shoulders, long limbs. Art was all about freeing your mind, experiencing the world visually, not just intellectually. Connecting more with your heart than your head.He spoke kindly, patiently to us little wannabe artists, some of whom probably couldn't draw a straight line. He seemed to want to encourage everyone to do their best, whatever that might be. Even the lost lambs like me, trying to figure out who we were and what we wanted from our empty lives, received his full and courteous attention.I went home from the. More

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