Something About Me A message from the program was projected on the wall: Memories / Confusion / Eroticism / Rudeness / Melancholy / Effort / Beauty. John Henry Gerena, the choreographer and the dancer, walked on the stage in total darkness. He bent down on the floor, I could tell he was preparing something. Only later, I realize that the man was crying. The lights rose gradually. It was still dim, yet one could see Henry started punching himself with boxing gloves. He kneeled down, first he punched hard and slowly, then, it gets agitatedly faster. He didn’t look up to his audiences at all. All gestures suggests that he is in pain, maybe regret. This went on for about one minute. A Spanish song1 started as the background music, with a hoarse male voice, perhaps it was a popular song in South America, that I have never heard before— in was piece of music in minor sounding really sad. Perhaps he was a fighter in his life time, who struggled in every way, but he still beat himself so hard. As a audience member, I could only watch; like perhaps of many the people around him who could only watch but were not able to do anything. For a moment, I felt I needed to pull him up.
A beam of light shone on him, and finally he stopped hitting himself and calmed down. He re-examed who he was. The light becomes so important to him, that he saw hope. Silence then to was essential, because any sound would be redundant. The calm doesn’t last very long, as he re-examed himself, his movement reminds of Tai-Chi. Tai-Chi, Yin and Yang, darkness and light, yes and no; the perfect balance that exist in everything in the universe. I suppose he is trying to reach a certain balance. His gestures became more awkward just like robotic dance of the 80‘s or the moonwalk of Michael Jackson—a frozen moment that is caught in between continuous movements. Perhaps that is how his memories are, some chaos that left some blank in his personal history. Meanwhile, it is accompanied now by the sound of drums is like his heart beat, getting faster and wilder. Drums remind of war and conflict. He is in his own war with himself once more. All of a sudden, his right arm got into his