Cestrum Nocturnum
She dances, but not like an ordinary waltz or any organized sort of dance. She just dances.
It’s like a choreomania. She looks crazy, but she seems so happy, so free.
Not as an innocent girl, but as a survivor finally free from her shackles.
She is free, and she is dancing, finally dancing to her own tune. A tune played at night, only for the selected characters.
She chooses well her public. Not everyone can hear, not everyone can see, not everyone can smell this specific jasmine, this specific dame.
Sir, you need to understand: she is for the ones who understood loss, who understood breakdown, who understood lack of freedom, who understood resentment, who understood being violated, who understood, who understood, who understood… but don’t anymore.
She is for the ones tired of handling in silence so many hardships. She is for the ones tired of merely surviving.
She is for the living. She is for the living survivors. And she is for the memory, the memory of those who didn’t make it.
- November 22nd, 2025
