I have reoccurring dreams of ballerinas in straitjackets, bending completely at the waist until their bodies snap in half like weak branches. And although their torsos lay motionless their legs keep dancing and they are as graceful and agile as they ever were. When I awake I remind myself it is okay to feel constricted, it is okay to fall to pieces, but I must keep moving despite the disconnect, I must act inherently natural despite how unnatural it has all become.
— Lucy Quin