CLAIR DE LUNE'S
Part 6's

But even though Clair-de-Lune's grandmother tried desperately to save money after La Lune died, their money was dwindling. Now—and until that time Clair-de-Lune could make money as an adult dancer—they live off donations given by the Dance Company.

The Clair-de-Lune lessons were created by his grandmother, with the goal of keeping him healthy. Thus, for two hours each afternoon, Clair-de-Lune pursued the most sensible lessons her grandmother had thought of. He observed large atlases and memorized places from north to south, coastal cities in exotic countries (Earth Science). He memorized a long list of King and Queen names, dates, wars, shipwreck events, capital punishment, and natural disasters (History). Because his grandmother had a dancer's knowledge of French and a musician's knowledge of Italian, Clair-de-Lune learned both languages (Language—Vocational Education). He learned to add and subtract, multiply and divide (Learning to Live on Income). And (this is his favorite) he read the book Literature (Discipline—Knowing Himself).

But her grandmother made sure she didn't read stories about friendship and love.

Clair-de-Lune's reading is limited to stories about Obligations, Discipline, and Obedience to Higher Things—and it can be said Clair-de-Lune found it interesting. Of course, finding a fully-suited literary book for Clair-de-Lune was a matter for her grandmother. Even the Gospel needs to be censored, and though he sent Clair-de-Lune to church because he regarded it as a Calming Influence, he said, he always felt a bit anxious in case the child heard anything subversive there.

Clair-de-Lune also read stories about great dancers—about their Discipline and Obedience to Tari—and these stories are what he likes the most.

In a series of books titled Artists and

His sacrifice—little books of lavender scented with white envelopes and the corners have turned yellow—ia read about Sergei Superblatov, who completed a ballet dance with a broken leg without anyone suspecting, experienced

the pain was unbearable, and chose to spend the rest of his life as

dancer rather than spoil the staging plan; about Lisette L’Oiseau, who refuses to visit her lover near her death because it means she ditches dance practice for half a day; about Eleanor Wood who never ate at all because she believed food would make her legs heavy and who, one day, jumped beautifully, floated like a dandelion flower, then disappeared never again. The most amazing, though,

occasionally—including today—grandmother Clair-de-Lune had her stand on a chair and pick up from the top shelf of the closet, a book of outfits containing clippings about La Lune's brilliant career. Clair-de-Lune dropped the book and put it on the table, flipped through it with a pounding heart, and almost sobbed as he arrived, once again, to the part where there was clipping

about his mother's death.

...LA LUNE DIED ON STAGE...

So did the headline, and Clair-de-Lune's grandmother

it tells a resolute story of the bravery and majesty of La Lune who was willing to die for the sake of Dance; about how she died still wearing her ballet shoes. He always told me about La Lune as if he included a line of dancers written

in his Artists and Sacrifices series; it is as if he is no more complicated, no more human than the Perfect Dancer, who thinks, loves, or does nothing but dance; and who died to take his place among the people Who Deserve to Be Exemplary. The Grandmother has never

tell Clair-de-Lune what stories his mother liked, or the first word he said, whether he preferred cats or dogs, or what his favorite song was. He never told Clair-de-Lune that his mother was Wild.

She never told me that her mother died because her heart was broken.

But when Clair-de-Lune thinks of her mother, which is often the case, those are the things she wants to know - simple, human things. Of course, he never forgot the attitude of his mother's body as a dancer; so perfect, so tiring, always imagined, but seemed impossible to imitate. Even if this side of his mother, which he had to work on to exemplify, always dominated his life, which was interesting

clair-de-Lune's interest is precisely the other side, his mother as a human.

What made her mother laugh? What made her cry? How often does he get sick? Have you ever felt too tired to keep going

a dance?

He started to feel scared.

It felt as if someone, or something, deep inside Clair-de-Lune, was trying

talking to him, from behind so many layers—what layer? He doesn't know. But whatever this thing was, layer by layer it silenced the voice mercilessly, making it sound terrifying.

So, Clair-de-Lune stopped daydreaming, and quickly thought of something else.

Clair-de-Lune greatly admired his mother, the Dancer

Perfect. But he was afraid that he might not be able to be like his mother, for now he knew he wanted something more than dancing. Clair-de-Lune will sacrifice anything—even dance—as long as it can talk.

While, of course, for his mother dancing is

all in all.

Too bad people have to choose!

“This is your mother's death anniversary, Clair-de-Lune,” says

her grandmother tensely. “So, I want for the rest of the day you think, how to be more like he.”

Clair-de-Lune nodded obediently. But he blushed in shame, even though his grandmother was not aware of it.

“Now, it's time for you to do your job,” said the grandmother at last, while giving her a list and a little money.

Clair-de-Lune took her coat from the crate under the bed, as well as a hat and wicker basket, kissed her grandmother and set off.

Every afternoon, Clair-de-Lune always went shopping in the market on the street in front of his house building, buying groceries that his grandmother could afford. Sometimes he gets a little wage by buying the care of the neighbors. Sometimes, if he is lucky, this wage is enough to buy plums for tea, or an egg for breakfast. But usually only one or two people are shopping, and often none are the same

once. While descending he stopped on all six floors, and knocked twice on the door of each floor.

“Today I did not ask to buy anything, I did not ask,

Clair-de-Lune,” Miss Blossom the singing teacher said in her mellow voice.

Seriate…