You'll know by now that one thing I particularly enjoy is belatedly learning to appreciate something of greatness which originally didn't move me. (In some cases it's doubtless the pendant to an earlier, less generous-spirited pleasure: finding highly praised things overrated.) Tonight I had the chance to see what the fuss about Merce Cunningham was all about - and just in time, as it was the penultimate performance of his dance company, which ends its 58-year run tomorrow night. (Cunningham himself died in 2009, at ninety.) The program was Pond
5 = 32 possibilities. But although you see only one - the one we saw was exquisite - you also see them all. Nothing is missing.