He’s a messer, a creep, an undeniably crazy guy, but all in all he’s just been trying to find his diatribe tribe- tantalized, tortured, and initially blighted, both bruised and brought ..

To a one-thousandth arena specifically near you.

Few who knew the true nature of his ulterior design- to both shine and cry in equal measurement perhaps, albeit no lapse in comfortable concentration this time:

“Yessir!” He’s a living, breathing, s-e-e-t-h-i-n-g, oft than not sincerely inter-developmental version of a far better person.

Ladies & mental-men, We give you One Sergei Polunin

Settings fire to the Fine Art of self-destructive ballet ever since Nineteen-Eighty-Nine.

Not
A
Dry
Eye.

As his meandering and unsettled self retaliates gently against the softest, most agile edges …

Of this, his most enigmatic and graciously gathered sense… of outright officially supreme mimicry aside maniacal design

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