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Description

  Nicco turned from side to side as the morning Seoul sunlight shone through her window, invading her hotel bedroom. At 10:30 AM, it was far too early for light to enter Nicco’s world. Thankfully, her eye-mask kept her safe. Her alarm clock, bought by her mother from the airport specifically for this trip, did not. BRRRRRRRRRRRING!!!
   Her well-practiced abdominal muscles sprung into action, quickly forcing the sleepy and recently startled Italian girl up in a lightning fast situp. Quickly throwing off her sheets, Nicco staggered and stumbled around the room, blinders on, Scrat plush in hand. She finally swats her arm down, her slender fingers making solid contact with the top of the round clock, halting the tormenting ringing.
    After a few minutes of trying to get back into bed, Nicco decided to get up once and for all, take a shower and start her prep for the show that night. She was one of only three "foreign" performers hired by a Korean circus for a two month season of touring Asia and performing domestically. Nicco put on a comfy wool turtleneck and a pair of sweatpants while keeping her performing necessities in a duffel bag by the door of her flat. She put on a pair of socks and a pair of bright yellow sneakers and headed out the door, meeting with her guide and more importantly, translator, Marty, a 26 year old Korean local, proficient in Korean, Italian and French.
    The two of them took a taxi to the venue where the circus would be performing that night, something of a small arena near a busy hotel and conference hall. Nicco entered via a back door and ducked into a restroom to change, swapping clothes. Nicco emerged, tying her naturally wavy wild and curly hair back with an elastic. Her slim body was now covered in a tight deep-mauve bodysuit. She wore a pair of birkenstocks to keep her covered feet off the ground. As the contortionist speedwalked down the corridor, her only though on reaching a vending machine for some precious food which was deprived of that morning, she was quickly intercepted by a lady from the makeup and dressing department, a short woman with a sharp tongue, and a longtime employee of the circus to make sure the performers looked as good as they performed. Our hungry heroine was derailed from her quest and sat down on a rotating chair with a barber's apron around her neck. Like a pit crew on a race car, the stylists got to work on Nicco, adjusting her hair, tying it up and to the side, high and neat. Her hair went through a multitude of straightenings and adjustments to look neater and a generous layer of foundation was applied. As the stylists commented, the only thing which they sadly (but to Nicco's relief) couldn't alter, was her nose.
    Now trimmed, styled and looking ready for the show, Nicco could now focus on her objective. Food. But this was not to be. Though the show was at 6pm, Marty quickly derailed Nicco, telling her that she should start her warm up now since at 2pm there would be an opportunity for promotional photos. Nicco entered a sparsely-populated performer's lounge and sat on the carpet near a soft couch. Lying back until her lower back was on the ground she bent her upper spine forwards while simultaneously kicking her legs towards her head, curling her spine like a shrimp inwards. Her legs continued the motion and her feet brushed the sides of her face, carrying on while she outstretched her arms forward. Her legs wrapped behind her neck, just above her shoulders, overlapping each other and wiggling briefly as she positioned her arms outwards, gently pushing her thighs back and nestling into a human knot, an easy and comfortable position for her since she first nailed it as a little girl. Her contorted pretzel-like body rocked back and forth twice on the ground. She continued to speedrun some of her favourite stretches. Twisting her legs together like rope, shoulder dislocations and deep backbends. All the while, her tummy rumbled on and on. As she wrapped up her final warm up and food was once again on her mind, one of the stage managers strutted into the room.
    “The boss wants to see that one pose, remember the one you did two days ago? Yeah well he wants to see how long you can hold it.”
    Nicco replied. “After that, can I finally get something to eat, I skipped breakfast and-”
    “Look can you just hold it for like, five minutes, then we’ll report back to the boss and we can get the shoot underway.”
    By this time, the room was filling up with a few of the other staff and performers. Nicco lay on her stomach on the seat of the couch, her legs resting against the back-pillows. She bends her pelvis, angling it lower until her spine is folded in half, her bum nestling snugly into her lower back and her legs extended in front of her. Partially using her arms and willpower, she twisted her legs and torso, rotating them about 180 degrees. Her spine popped a few times as the rotation extended. She bent her spine even further as well, pressing her twisted lower back and legs onto her “normal” upper torso. As she bent her knees, Marty stepped in with a straight pole, holding it out to keep her knees from straightening. She arched her neck up and lifted her arms above her head interlocking her fingers and applying pressure. Her shoulders easily slid out of their sockets and her arms quickly wrapped together, winding and braiding. The pole was quickly adjusted to “lock” her limbs tightly behind it. And so Nicco waited. Two minutes in, as more people stayed around either warming up or talking, a plate was brought in and the commotion escalated. A voice spoke out.
    “Hey, look who brought donuts!”
    Soon the whole room was abuzz with the usual interest at workplace treats and ironically at the table right before her eyes: the prize was laid.
    Frosted, glazed and filled goodies piled high were going fast and Nicco desperately glanced at the clock:
    ONLY ONE MINUTE PASSED?!
    Our heroine quickly snaps her head forward staring at the vanishing delights, her eyes, locked on target.

Description

  Nicco turned from side to side as the morning Seoul sunlight shone through her window, invading her hotel bedroom. At 10:30 AM, it was far too early for light to enter Nicco’s world. Thankfully, her eye-mask kept her safe. Her alarm clock, bought by her mother from the airport specifically for this trip, did not. BRRRRRRRRRRRING!!!
   Her well-practiced abdominal muscles sprung into action, quickly forcing the sleepy and recently startled Italian girl up in a lightning fast situp. Quickly throwing off her sheets, Nicco staggered and stumbled around the room, blinders on, Scrat plush in hand. She finally swats her arm down, her slender fingers making solid contact with the top of the round clock, halting the tormenting ringing.
    After a few minutes of trying to get back into bed, Nicco decided to get up once and for all, take a shower and start her prep for the show that night. She was one of only three "foreign" performers hired by a Korean circus for a two month season of touring Asia and performing domestically. Nicco put on a comfy wool turtleneck and a pair of sweatpants while keeping her performing necessities in a duffel bag by the door of her flat. She put on a pair of socks and a pair of bright yellow sneakers and headed out the door, meeting with her guide and more importantly, translator, Marty, a 26 year old Korean local, proficient in Korean, Italian and French.
    The two of them took a taxi to the venue where the circus would be performing that night, something of a small arena near a busy hotel and conference hall. Nicco entered via a back door and ducked into a restroom to change, swapping clothes. Nicco emerged, tying her naturally wavy wild and curly hair back with an elastic. Her slim body was now covered in a tight deep-mauve bodysuit. She wore a pair of birkenstocks to keep her covered feet off the ground. As the contortionist speedwalked down the corridor, her only though on reaching a vending machine for some precious food which was deprived of that morning, she was quickly intercepted by a lady from the makeup and dressing department, a short woman with a sharp tongue, and a longtime employee of the circus to make sure the performers looked as good as they performed. Our hungry heroine was derailed from her quest and sat down on a rotating chair with a barber's apron around her neck. Like a pit crew on a race car, the stylists got to work on Nicco, adjusting her hair, tying it up and to the side, high and neat. Her hair went through a multitude of straightenings and adjustments to look neater and a generous layer of foundation was applied. As the stylists commented, the only thing which they sadly (but to Nicco's relief) couldn't alter, was her nose.
    Now trimmed, styled and looking ready for the show, Nicco could now focus on her objective. Food. But this was not to be. Though the show was at 6pm, Marty quickly derailed Nicco, telling her that she should start her warm up now since at 2pm there would be an opportunity for promotional photos. Nicco entered a sparsely-populated performer's lounge and sat on the carpet near a soft couch. Lying back until her lower back was on the ground she bent her upper spine forwards while simultaneously kicking her legs towards her head, curling her spine like a shrimp inwards. Her legs continued the motion and her feet brushed the sides of her face, carrying on while she outstretched her arms forward. Her legs wrapped behind her neck, just above her shoulders, overlapping each other and wiggling briefly as she positioned her arms outwards, gently pushing her thighs back and nestling into a human knot, an easy and comfortable position for her since she first nailed it as a little girl. Her contorted pretzel-like body rocked back and forth twice on the ground. She continued to speedrun some of her favourite stretches. Twisting her legs together like rope, shoulder dislocations and deep backbends. All the while, her tummy rumbled on and on. As she wrapped up her final warm up and food was once again on her mind, one of the stage managers strutted into the room.
    “The boss wants to see that one pose, remember the one you did two days ago? Yeah well he wants to see how long you can hold it.”
    Nicco replied. “After that, can I finally get something to eat, I skipped breakfast and-”
    “Look can you just hold it for like, five minutes, then we’ll report back to the boss and we can get the shoot underway.”
    By this time, the room was filling up with a few of the other staff and performers. Nicco lay on her stomach on the seat of the couch, her legs resting against the back-pillows. She bends her pelvis, angling it lower until her spine is folded in half, her bum nestling snugly into her lower back and her legs extended in front of her. Partially using her arms and willpower, she twisted her legs and torso, rotating them about 180 degrees. Her spine popped a few times as the rotation extended. She bent her spine even further as well, pressing her twisted lower back and legs onto her “normal” upper torso. As she bent her knees, Marty stepped in with a straight pole, holding it out to keep her knees from straightening. She arched her neck up and lifted her arms above her head interlocking her fingers and applying pressure. Her shoulders easily slid out of their sockets and her arms quickly wrapped together, winding and braiding. The pole was quickly adjusted to “lock” her limbs tightly behind it. And so Nicco waited. Two minutes in, as more people stayed around either warming up or talking, a plate was brought in and the commotion escalated. A voice spoke out.
    “Hey, look who brought donuts!”
    Soon the whole room was abuzz with the usual interest at workplace treats and ironically at the table right before her eyes: the prize was laid.
    Frosted, glazed and filled goodies piled high were going fast and Nicco desperately glanced at the clock:
    ONLY ONE MINUTE PASSED?!
    Our heroine quickly snaps her head forward staring at the vanishing delights, her eyes, locked on target.