Moscow

My mother’s name is Ruth. It was her idea to bring me to the Bolshoi Theatre on my 12th birthday while we were living in Moscow. My mother dragged me despite my alternative idea to climb a tree. The theatre was lit up and we were late. As the lights dimmed and the orchestra groped to be tuned by the oboe, I was there. It was then that my eyes were opened. I began to see. I saw the story when I closed my eyes and heard the orchestra. I read the story while the stage was moving with no words spoken. 

My spirit was awoken and a young artist was born.

After that experience, I saw things. I felt the beauty of the dead flowers. I was touched by the suffering and the lonely. I started my search for love and meaning.