It's 1912, but feels much closer to 1890. I was six years old - and the world was much bigger then. I have to remind myself that I'm in the present. It hurts so much to realize that truth.
When the wind whips through this gossamer wool - I try to remember Papa and the warmth of his embrace. I can still smell the sweet earthy tobacco that filled my senses when he would laugh. "Nadia! Nadia! Show that dance again!" Papa would boast to his friends about my ability to mesmerize with my movements. He would say that when I danced, it was as if the Sugar Plum faeries and the whispering winds would stop to see such flowing joy.
But it is not 1890 - it is 1912. I came to Luxembourg to dance. It seems that the world hurts too much to show any emotion. The days are dark and cold. Many go away never to return. I am in Luxembourg - but when I dance, I'm at home with Mama and Papa - it is 1890.