Improvisation: Dance of the Little Swans

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This spring, as usual, we took a walk outdoors. It was the beginning of April, but winter was slow to recede. Densely packed snow carpeted the ground, and the forest was solemn and gripped by a stern silence. The river had just begun to shake off its icy shell, and deep within its banks water tossed and churned noisily. But the air carried something cheerful, fresh, and invigorating. It meant a quick change was approaching, and each of us, tired of our six-month hibernation, greedily inhaled this invisible aroma of spring. We wanted to be carefree and dance.



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