ambereliza:

the winter ballet aesthetic is near and dear to my heart

flecks of snow in the pastel pink of a scarf, weak sunlight, strains of tchaikovsky muted through closed windows, chill nipping at exposed ankles in rehearsal rooms, white paint chipping from the skirting board where tired feet rest, chapped lips being bitten red raw in empty corridors, the fur details of an audience member’s coat, the deep breath of chill air taken from a door at the back of the theatre