The most striking part of Cistern, for me, is the final section. On Friday, when we were discussing the tone we should try to convey in our movement, my first instinct was that of course we should be demonstrating sadness and loss. The water in the cistern has dried up, leaving us with only mud. It's occurred to me, however, that the situation is far more complex that that. We will have just spent an hour creating this fictional community - the audience will have seen us dance, bathe, work, play, etc. By the end of the piece, we just are - we're existing as a functioning community in front of their eyes. As we continue on, dancing without the water, they are just witnessing the next phase of our experience. As we take our last breaths in silence, and lie down to die, it is without ceremony or tragedy or drama. It just is. In real life, when we are faced with harsh realities, we don't break out violin music and make dramatic arm movements, trying to convey sadness or fear to an audience. Real life isn't Swan Lake, and neither is this. The beauty that exists in the final section (other than the haunting music and wonderful movement) lies in the unadorned truth of the situation. Its simplicity, free from puffed-up emotion, is beautiful.