to hearing a bit of Sacre de Printemps and watching a fragmented reconstruction of Nijinsky in some sort of an unimaginable combination with Pussy Riot's
Punk Prayer, but what I got was an incredibly uninspiring lecture in which dancers were used as props.
With all those great names in the text, I'm not surprised you were looking forward to it. Your sense of disappointment makes it hard to do a yay . . . . . . . . . but because it's you, I have.
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