Have You Ever Danced in Ruins?

As someone who has a deep love for ancient spaces, I never thought I might be dancing inside ruins, but the beautiful city of Plovdiv was enchanting me through local wine and a place long lost and forgotten until it was rediscovered.

The ruins I danced in were part of the Roman Forum and Odeon of Philippopolis, the ancient Roman name for Plovdiv.

It was the heart of public life; a place for administration, trade, religion, speeches, assemblies, celebrations, and state affairs.

The northern side of the Forum held important civic buildings, including the Odeon, the city library, and the treasury.

The Odeon later served as both the seat of the city council and a small theatre, which makes the idea of dancing there feel almost like a strange continuation of its original purpose.

These stones were once surrounded by voices, decisions, performances, announcements, and daily urban life.

Over time, the ancient city was buried beneath the layers of modern Plovdiv, today a place to gather, admire, and simply enjoy city life.

The feeling that ancient spaces evoke in me is so difficult to describe; it goes beyond admiration, curiosity, and melancholy.

These spaces almost make me feel homesick, and I have no explanation for it.

As local wineries poured wines inspired by Bulgaria’s ancient Thracian winemaking tradition, I started wondering whether this was how Dionysus himself celebrated, or whether even he would have approved of the setting.

I was suddenly wondering who else stood here before me, enjoying the day hundreds or even thousands of years ago. And frankly, what their favourite wine selection was, if there was any.

Dancing in these ruins inspired me, gave me so many ideas on how to transform such spaces, even if only for a fleeting moment, and let my mind wander.

Suddenly, I began to picture red drapes, long tables, and people gathering until the next morning.

The sun was slowly going down, and we started dancing with our wine glasses in hand, while so many people looked down on us from above the ruins. I started forgetting about the past and fully arrived in the moment.

Imagine where and how people will gather in 2,000 years. Will there be ruins of our houses? Will their bodies move to unheard music in rhythms like our bodies once did?

Or will they honour their ancestors and their spaces in a different way?

We most certainly do not know, but how I feel today is that we must preserve the beauty of the past and create rooms, occasions, and gatherings among those long-lost rooms to feel alive today.

Plovdiv certainly taught me one thing.

We can return to the lost rooms, dance in the ruins, and create a space for something beautiful.

Even for one week only.

Leave a comment