The window has legs and hips but you can only see them when it rains. The water curls around the shapes and creates facets in the patch of grey, treelimbs twisted and crooked, distorted. The wind shifts the shapes. It has been long since the last rain and the ground drinks deep.

Friday last I danced on a black splintered stage while a flute and harmonium and drum provided melody and rhythm for motion. I felt removed from myself, delightful and in some ways terrifying. Something in me stepped back for the duration of my dance, and it felt opposite from watching myself. It was myself watching. I recall feeling nervous at first, and then quickened and exhilirated. A dancer I much admire who also performed that evening sent me congratulations on a dance well done today, and said she loves to see me dance from my heart and soul. And I suppose that's what it is, at base.

The beginning class I teach starts up again on Saturday; eight new faces to make smile, eight new bellies to shape. It's a two hour class and we all leave sweaty. I start with half an hour of stretching and fifteen minutes of muscle-building stretches and exercises, which include leg lifts and sit ups. It doesn't matter the size and shape of the belly so long as it is strong.

The rain sounds like a drum and the hips and legs sway softly across the sky.