Back when I was young, I loved to dance. I would dream about performing ballet all over the world, freely leaping into the glorious abyss of passion and leaving behind my old life. Of course, this was just a dream that any normal child would have – but this didn’t stop me from going to extreme measures.
After I had wolfed down the last coco pop, the final cornflake and even the tiniest fibres of porridge, the cardboard box would rip with a sudden roar. I made sure to use my best pink scissors to trace the outline of my feet, before using tape to secure the handmade ballet shoe.
Using my ruffled cardboard flats, I’d make my way to the Sheesham Living Room – my mother’s pride and joy – and prepare myself right in the centre next to the Light Indian Rosewood Nest. One, two, three and I was off – prancing around the fluffy carpet, my long hair flying around my body wildly as I pinched my toes and straightened my legs.
I loved the feeling of the classical music sweeping throughout my small body as I’d hop onto the Indian Rosewood Side Table and sauter down with only a soft bump.
My legs bent in time to the music, my elongated arms feeling every beat and melody there was to hear whilst my chin stuck out proudly with a height of decorum.
But suddenly, the door would swing open with a bang, the doorknob glistening with fear, and my mother would stride in – a thunderstorm approaching with every step. My world would come crashing down with a great heave, and I’d see myself now awkwardly stomping around the room in time to the music instead of the graceful dancer I had imagined.
She would flick off the music player on the Natural Cube Sheesham Storage Cube. With one eyebrow raise I knew my dance was over and id hang my head as I trailed back to my room. I might not have been the amazing dancer I thought I was, but I know the Indian Rosewood furniture always stood by me no matter how silly I looked!
That’s it from me today, goodbye everyone!