![]()
I don’t dance. It’s a language I don’t understand. It’s Swahili. It’s pollen. I am allergic to the dance – when I listen to music, I like to sing along and occasionally raise my head, like a dog enjoying the wind through a car window. I’m a still person, content when stretched flat on a banquette. I don’t dance, can’t dance and won’t dance. There is, however, one artist whose songs always make my legs twitch. And my arms. And slightly my nostrils.





