I held my breath and closed my eyes for a few moments.

The room felt still as the musicians crept up with the first notes of the Arabian Dance. The sound wafting up from the string instruments was intricately lush, as though nothing tangible could ever compare to the softness that settled around us.

I opened my eyes and let my gaze rest on the stage, where the dancers performed in a seamless, flowing manner. From time to time I would look down to the orchestra below in fascination, and then return my attention to the set.

There is some futility in art. Even as I soaked up every drop of it last night, I felt a small feeling of longing. The curtains would come down, the lights would go up. And there I was, just wanting to stay in that other artful realm forever, where it feels infinitely beautiful, restful and alive. Where I feel joy, and challenge, and sense.

And then comes the impermanence of it all.