JOURNAL
A space for you to luxuriate in some of my words, some of the things I'm into and some of the foundational practices and perspectives that I’m often asked about.
It all begins with a playlist. Usually called something obnoxiously obvious like ‘dance party’, ‘move’, or even worse, ‘dance’. Over the ear headphones ready. Loose dress on. Bedroom door closed. Eyes shut. Feet bare. The ingredients that make up a solo dance party and all of its unexpected healing powers.
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