In the city or on a beach, climbing a staircase, trying on dresses, I can only imagine you dancing. You are music with your whole body. And rhythm and figures. Less sculpted for walking than for swimming in a water called love. Your tapering legs stretch out even more, and your ankles are light. Then there is no more routine or tiredness. Not a single step is heavy.

After all, the dance that strikes the ground and then detaches is a matter of attachments between the soul and the body.

Translated from the French by Dawn Cornelio