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Like many unusual stories, this one begins on a rainy day. It wasn't pouring but bad enough that I took a shelter inside a café. I ordered a cup of coffee and sat by the window dotted with raindrops. Stevie Wonder's Ma Cherie Amour resounded in the building, its echoes blended with the soft rhythm of the falling rain. I looked outside the window and watched people walking by. And I think that was about the time when the young couple appeared on the street.
They stood on the opposite side of the street and looked at each other with a shy smile. Then the man pushed a button on the portable CD player he brought. A loud music blasted out. The couple exchanged a glance, smiled, and began dancing. It wasn't for the money, and it wasn't for anything else. They just danced. And for the next ten minutes or so, I had to let my coffee grow cold because I could not help but watch them perform.
Hundreds of people might have walked on the street that day, but no one has taken steps with such determination and passion. The two dancers were leaving a mark, engraving their existence in this world. There was no haste. Every move they cherished, and every beat they enjoyed. A light of genuine happiness illuminated on their faces, and the confidence was embedded in every inch of their bodies. Their passion drew people like a magnet; hasty walks came to a stop, and impassive faces began to light up. In the midst of rain, people gathered around the couple and cheered. A vivid color of liveliness spread across the humdrum street.
Every human being comes to this world with a purpose. And like Paulo Coelho said, I believe that realizing "one's personal legend is one's only true obligation." Through the window of the small café, I was looking at two people who met that obligation through dancing, people who remained loyal to the words of their hearts. They were complete strangers, but with every move of their bodies, they were telling me something important: when dancing means everything to you, you don't need a nicely set stage. In that moment, I felt a heat inside my body, a violent aching of my heart. For how long have I ignored my own voice?
I quietly exited the store. Raindrops fell on my skin, but it didn't feel unpleasant. My heart gave a lurch as I walked up the street. Feeling a mixture of shame and excitement, I turned my head to see the dancers for the last time. Then I walked on.
I don't know if they still dance on the street. But I'm sure they are dancing somewhere, just like I am walking towards my own dream.
Like many unusual stories, this one begins on a rainy day. It wasn't pouring but bad enough that I took a shelter inside a café. I ordered a cup of coffee and sat by the window dotted with raindrops. Stevie Wonder's Ma Cherie Amour resounded in the building, its echoes blended with the soft rhythm of the falling rain. I looked outside the window and watched people walking by. And I think that was about the time when the young couple appeared on the street.
They stood on the opposite side of the street and looked at each other with a shy smile. Then the man pushed a button on the portable CD player he brought. A loud music blasted out. The couple exchanged a glance, smiled, and began dancing. It wasn't for the money, and it wasn't for anything else. They just danced. And for the next ten minutes or so, I had to let my coffee grow cold because I could not help but watch them perform.
Hundreds of people might have walked on the street that day, but no one has taken steps with such determination and passion. The two dancers were leaving a mark, engraving their existence in this world. There was no haste. Every move they cherished, and every beat they enjoyed. A light of genuine happiness illuminated on their faces, and the confidence was embedded in every inch of their bodies. Their passion drew people like a magnet; hasty walks came to a stop, and impassive faces began to light up. In the midst of rain, people gathered around the couple and cheered. A vivid color of liveliness spread across the humdrum street.
Every human being comes to this world with a purpose. And like Paulo Coelho said, I believe that realizing "one's personal legend is one's only true obligation." Through the window of the small café, I was looking at two people who met that obligation through dancing, people who remained loyal to the words of their hearts. They were complete strangers, but with every move of their bodies, they were telling me something important: when dancing means everything to you, you don't need a nicely set stage. In that moment, I felt a heat inside my body, a violent aching of my heart. For how long have I ignored my own voice?
I quietly exited the store. Raindrops fell on my skin, but it didn't feel unpleasant. My heart gave a lurch as I walked up the street. Feeling a mixture of shame and excitement, I turned my head to see the dancers for the last time. Then I walked on.
I don't know if they still dance on the street. But I'm sure they are dancing somewhere, just like I am walking towards my own dream.
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