Book: Dancing ghosts

Not a single coherent thought in his head. Only the red flash before my eyes. Only the Mat through clenched teeth along with your breath. And the hand of the clock on the wall if stuck. Buzzing legs like cast iron. His knees buckled themselves. Soft ballet shoes harness the foot, like sandpaper. The soul flies onward and upward, and the heavy body barely dragging behind...

You have been deceived. You are locked in a four mirror walls, and you think that ballet is the world that humanity is divided into those on stage and those in the hall.