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     This poem was written after spending some time in Dance Jam, an open air, come as your are, dance the way you want place in San Diego.

One night, I walked in and the celing was covered with electric emeralds, from some sort of special affects.

The bodies twisting in their own happy, individual dances were just that special.

Electric dance

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Have an opportunity to tell the story of a woman -- who when 13 -- lost her mother to the Nazis in occupied France. The mother was taken. The father ran to the police station. They met. They cried. The last thing the mother said to her husband was to make sure her daughter would continue playing piano. Then they took her to a camp where she died ( Read more... )

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