I love to prepare if it’s something that requires training. But I don’t like to prepare the psychology too much.
The landscape of my days appears to be composed, like mountainous regions, of varied materials heaped up pell-mell. There I see my nature, itself composite, made up of equal parts of instinct and training. Here and there protrude the granite peaks of the inevitable, but all about is rubble from the landslips of chance.
You increase muscle bulk by training against resistance. For example, weights. And in ballet, this isn’t the case.
I guessed princesses-in-training didn’t wear pants.
I’m like a duck: calm above the water, and paddling like hell underneath.