The Tears of Ballerinas by Margarita Makarova

It was a pleasure to burn.
Books, people and dreams turned to ashes in the jaws of the New Age. The New Age was always greedy for the old things. Every lunch it eats outdated gadgets. At nights it is awake, having for a snack old-fashion buildings glazed with buttons or tapes. But still the most delicious delicatessens are trends. You can't even imagine, dear reader, how strongly the new age enjoyed chewing fashion for yo-yo and skateboarding. Poor things didn't even crack in its' big toothy mouth.
And now the new age is taking big bites of the ballet. Early famous ballrooms were bought and rebuilt in clubs, shopping malls or cinemas. Ballerinas were not needed anymore. With pieces of art the new age swallowed their dreams. Some of ballerinas retrained for others jobs, some of them disappeared, but Am stayed with the stage. She wasn’t able to leave the only thing she was attached to. There she had a family. There she saw and later danced her first “Swan Lake”. For ballerinas it did matter.
We have to admit, that the stage was beautiful. All imperfections made it more perfect. And even the fact that it served as a dance floor didn't spoil the stage. It glowed with pride in the dark. Early it has never had that much guests.
Am started to gather all the rubbish and clean the stage with her hands. She was crying. For the first time she lost control. And that was wrong. Tears of ballerinas should not fall on the stage. However the new age didn`t care: it was breathing down her neck. Am felt the smell of motor oil and burning rubber in the air. It was her great loss. She knew today was the last day of the ballet. In one hour this place would be turned to ashes by huge heartless machines. Am desperately wanted these last moments to be memorable. And what was it to her that nobody would notice. She would do that for herself, for the ballet.
Am wiped her tears and took her apron off. The only ballerina, she was standing at the stage addressing an empty hall. The ballerina looked tiny, tired, but strong, the candle fighting with the night. She started to dance. Her movements were not gracious enough, but it didn`t matter. Dancing with heart does not require accuracy.
Somebody started to cough. This sound was the only music in the hall. It was getting louder and tougher with every ballerina`s swaying. In the back row a very old toothless man was watching the performance and coughing with despair.
The new age chocked on a last piece of the ballet.