A Memorable Event

  The first thing I noticed when I walked up the steep stairs of the building was the smell. It drifted along the light breeze, and I wondered why in the world would a dance studio smell like rubber? When I left the vicinity of the stairs, my sight was greeted with an array of shoes: white, black, blue, red, yellow, green, gold, and silver. The music that had been faint downstairs now blasted in my eardrum, and I barely registered the lyrics of the song. I vaguely remembered it was Rihanna's. I received my answer concerning the smell when I spotted the room next to the counter: black rubber covered every inch of the elated dance room, allowing the breakers on the floor to dance with convenience. The equipment in the room then caught my attention. The loud speakers resonated with the beating of the drum and the bass of the song; it was so powerful I could literally see the vibrations. The stage lights shined so brightly that it seemed as if the dancers were glowing. I stared at the reflection of the breakers dancing in the mirror, of the colors shifting from one position to another and then moving to once again another place the next instance. It was an exotic piece of art. I felt like there was a pull to my soul, calling me to join them. It was the call to expression, the call to freedom. It was then that I realized, this is the place where I want to be; this is the place where I belonged. This is a place of freedom.