A little ballerina stands in the rays of light falling on the polished floor of the studio. Her tiny figure is dressed in an airy tutu, like a cloud, and pale pink pointe shoes that still seem a little big for her. Her hair is neatly gathered into a tight bun, revealing a thin, graceful neck.
There is concentration and dream in her eyes. She raises her arms like butterfly wings and begins her step. Each movement is light, although not always perfectly precise, but already filled with future grace. She tries, repeating after the teacher, stretches, balances, feeling the music with her whole being. For her, these are not just exercises, but magic, in which she turns into a swan, a fairy or a princess.
The girl's gaze is directed somewhere into the distance, beyond the walls of the hall, into the world where prima ballerinas spin on the big stage. Each pirouette, each wave of the hand is a step towards her dream. And even if her legs are tired and her back hurts from training, the smile never leaves her face, because she is a ballerina, and her dance is just beginning.
Location of the painting:
Moscow
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