Maybe what Merce presented of himself was all there was. He seemed so calm with none of the darkness and complications, the specters, the bare naked wanting I had. I couldn’t imagine him laying exhausted at night in bed and wiping away his tears as I so often did. I cherished this idea – that Merce had cut himself free and all that was left was the dancing. That’s what I wanted– just the dancing – to launch myself into a world of clarity and precision. To disappear into it and never come out.