Beauty. Grace. Talent.

Angelique, or Angel, was the heart of it all. The time of romance, an era where its great on the emphasis on the imagination and emotion; intense focus on human subjectivity and its expression, an exaltation of nature which was seen as a vast repository of symbols, of childhood and spontaneity, of primitive forms of society, of human passion and emotion, of the poet, of the sublime, and of imagination…

Oh, how sweet, beautiful Angel had captured it all within her dances. The way her hands, legs and body move - one would believe she was a swan, but not her. She believes she was a dove. More elegant in her mind as she says.

As beautiful and graceful as she moves across the stage…she was as sharp and cutting as a swift blade.

There, the heart of France stood, her brows creased deeply in scrutiny. Glowering at the new dancers in the studio that could not do a simple coupé or passé…

They actually do do it well, but to Angel it was horrible. She. Needed. Perfection!