“Ideas are the heirs of sorrow; when sorrow becomes an idea, it no longer has the power to wound the heart.” Marcel Proust

“I could tell you what I have explored if I hadn’t read Marcel Proust and hadn’t been obsessed with the music of Richard Wagner and Leonard Cohen. Now I feel so insecure in my dancing that my insecurity belongs to another world. I could tell you what I have explored if I knew. But since all my assumptions can be challenged, I won’t burden you with explanations of whether ‘the object returns from a long journey through the narrow frame of a half-open door, infinitely distant, in a completely different color, velvety, with the glow of some intervention of light, or appears, dances, but belongs to another world.’
I would like to speak about love, if I knew and could describe it. I would like to know more about death, which often torments us because of its uncertainty to happen in the ideal way for us. I won’t be able to tell you what sorrow is for me, since I have abandoned it to the point that it no longer appears before my eyes, and I do not allow it to return for long. I could also say what art is for me, although it is not modest to express my judgment about any work.”
Galina Borisova