I only caught a glimpse through the doorway as we left the gallery.
A single, bronze figure, face uplifted.
But instantly, I knew it—Degas’ Little Dancer.
As a child taking ballet lessons, that statue— and Degas’ work in general—stands out in my memory.
I can still picture myself lying on my stomach, flipping through the pages of a book that narrated to me the story of that “little dancer.”
The title o…
