By RAVINA PATEL
The little dancer is alone in the trinket box. She is poised and graceful, everything a little dancer is expected to be. A few times a day, the lid opens, allowing her to move, dance, pirouette to her heart’s content. Then the lid shuts, and she is surrounded by darkness again. She is reminded that she is only a porcelain figure, forced to move on command. She does not move by choice, and the freedom she feels while dancing is not real. When the lid shuts, she is completely alone, trapped inside. The smile painted on her face leads others to perceive her as a happy, free individual, but everything is not as it seems. No one knows how she really feels, and they choose to assume rather than to understand. She is lonely, trapped in a dark box that encase her inside her own mind. There is no escape.