As a kid, I used to dance at the Norwegian Opera, and I hated it. I persevered for several years before I felt big enough to say, "Now I'm quitting!" I thought I hated dancing, but I was wrong. I love to dance – it was the strict discipline and the French commands I struggled with. It also did not help that we had to sit, one by one, at the annual exam. It was like walking through purgatory. The pious English ballerina understood and let me improvise: I heard five minutes of piano music once, then once more while dancing. . .
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