It’s autumn in Beijing and we walked the streets hand in hand on our way to class. Han Geng and I. We’re both students with the Beijing Dance Institute & Academy. Han Geng was a native Chinese and I was an exchange student from Malaysia. I was lucky enough to win a scholarship to the academy but I’d no idea of the dedication and physical demands expected from a student with this prestigious academy until the day I attended my first class.
Most of the students entered the academy during their early teens and some when they were mere children. It was daunting to see the dedication an 11 year old could have, compared to someone of my age. The students at the academy devoted their lives, tears, blood and sweat to their craft. Each day was spent perfecting their technique, flexibility and expression of the body.
“You cannot afford a moment of rest if you want to be the best,” the dean had informed me on my first day. His words rarely turned out to be untrue.
Most of the students entered the academy during their early teens and some when they were mere children. It was daunting to see the dedication an 11 year old could have, compared to someone of my age. The students at the academy devoted their lives, tears, blood and sweat to their craft. Each day was spent perfecting their technique, flexibility and expression of the body.
“You cannot afford a moment of rest if you want to be the best,” the dean had informed me on my first day. His words rarely turned out to be untrue.
No comments:
Post a Comment