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Hello beautiful people,
This is a monologue from a TV show, which highlights a woman’s difficulty accepting that her allure in the eyes of men might be fading. I thought that a slightly breathy read might be most appropriate. I recorded it in my home studio. I know there are a few mouth clicks (I’ll be sure to eat a Gala apple and drink plenty of water in advance next time). But what are your thoughts aside from that? Much appreciated!
Here is the text:
It’s a dance. A dance no one had to teach me, a dance I’d known since I first saw my reflection in my father’s eyes. My partners have been princes and starving artists, Greek gods and clowns, and every one of them certain they led. But it’s always my dance. I make the first move, which is no move at all. I always just understand that they will eventually find themselves in front of me, primitive, beautiful animals and their bodies responding to the inevitability of it all. It’s my dance, and I have performed it with finesse and abandon with countless partners. Only the faces change, and all this time, I never suspected that the night would come, when the dance would end.
