Absolutely No Talent Whatsoever
ON THE SECOND floor of the office building where I teach is a big room with hardwood floors and a pair of radiators that overheat in the winter. Sometimes I have to open the windows a little bit when the girls work their bodies hard. One wall has a wall-to-wall mirror and a barre that’s built in at a height suitable for teenage girls still mad-obsessed with ballet. The windows overlook East Ayer Street, and the back windows overlook the railroad tracks that crisscross underneath the Mansfield Street Viaduct. I’ve caught a number of girls looking out these windows. The faraway eyes are especially familiar here in Ironwood, Michigan. Somewhere, they inevitably think, a train will take me to a place where there are lots of rich people and I’ll finally belong.
