When I think of a lake, I imagine its stillness and peace. Calm looms over a clear surface without tides. No matter if the wind shouts or murmurs, the water barely stirs. It's settled, unperturbed. It craves nothing but silence.
Fluid and changeable, they flatter dancers: Each beautiful position bleeds into the next one, so that mistakes and flaws don't have time to crystallize. Not that it's hard to make Cedar Lake's dancers -- ballet's cool kids -- look good.