The Layers of Fire
- Larisa - LoQueArde
- Oct 4
- 2 min read
The First Beat
I was five, and the world was classical dance. The body as a score, discipline as air.
My known place. My prison too.
Return
At twenty-six, I went back to dancing after more than a decade away.
I returned to the only thing I knew: the classical.
It was reunion and repetition. Love and hate.
It felt like being there again — but in an old mirror.
The stiffness was in my body and in my mind.
Moving meant repeating, not interpreting.
When the Body Breaks
The physical and the soul’s injury. I couldn’t dance anymore.
Then other languages came in: photography, theater, traditional astrology, film, books. Other stages where I could place the fire.
Relearning
Later I discovered Feldenkrais, Gyrokinesis, biomechanics. I learned the organic, what breaks rigidity. It was learning to move again — but with another logic of the body.
The Return with Pain
Another decade passed before I danced again.
No longer naïve, nor a mirror.
It was returning with pain, but with new awareness.
The fire was still there — different, yet intact.
The 90s
Fashion, styles, lived moments.Music as blood: I can’t let it go,
I need it with me.
That decade stayed tattooed in me, a baseline rhythm that never stops playing.
Editing = Choreography
Editing video isn’t technical — it’s composing invisible choreography.
Accents, silences, loops… and the part that explodes.
What seemed “digital” became an analog theater: endless hours in stocks, masks, and effects, like sequences of dance.
The Intellectual Escape
Seven years of engineering.
And an ending that never came. The thesis — unbearable.
I didn’t want to sign with tutors I didn’t respect.
I dropped it halfway, to never go back.
Everything I studied there never matched me, nor reality.
Reading as Refuge
At ten, Little Women.
At twenty, a boyfriend threw Nietzsche at me.
From there to Schopenhauer, Arlt, Hesse.
And my mother — a teacher, demanding to the unbearable, but with a closet full of style and books.
Constant Invention
Getaways, travels, disappointments.
Anhedonia as emptiness.
And still, the search for truth and exits.
The need to invent my own world.
The Pieces
♪ “…and the pieces of my puzzle keep crumbling away… but I know there’s a picture beneath.” ♪
Everything that breaks is a layer.
Everything I weave comes back in another form.
Today
What used to be dance beats are now keyframes.
What used to be choreography on stage is now editing on a timeline.
And it’s still fire.
Micro-Challenge
Write your own manifesto in 10 lines.
Don’t think about “being liked” — think about saying what hurts, what vibrates, what moves you.
Then read it out loud.
If it trembles, good — that means it’s alive.
This was another fire from Blog Ardiente.
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Full post: https://www.loquearde.net/
🎧 While I edit, I keep Uma Criança Com Seu Olhar — acoustic version by Chorão — in the background.
The lyrics speak of growing up, of inevitable maturity, but also of how to hold onto the simple and the eternal in the middle of it all.
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