I was sequestered in the back, attempting the role of passive observer, balancing on the rickety floor. This was not meant to be a passive scene, though, and a white t-shirt and a rolling belly called me on my shit. “You move your legs,” he said, “and then you go forwards and then backwards and then you go to the side and then forwards again and your arms go up like this.” as he pulled phantom levers above his head, smiling, his belly poking out in rhythm. “You’ve got to move.”

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