banalities

as i leave you
i disintegrate beautifully
:faye wong

salsa camp was short, muddy, a touch scandalous, altogether sultry and sneezy.

my inability to be a good follow continues to be a pain, made literal too last night when my lips got whacked by a not-very-thin elbow becuase i failed to get the cue to turn. lady's styling class was quite fun, a touch scandalousness. i still miss latin quite a bit, but without my dance partner who i will always see as hanming, i find it rather challenging to pick it up again.

spent a good bit of last night trying to fall asleep to disgusting failure even with the screaming muscles and creaking joints, the little voice kept singing and saying secret little things that should be shushed, ended up rolling myself up into the blanket like an onversized popiah.

if the solitary figure onstage stumbles and crumbles and regains enough momentary balance to present you with the most disturbing, arousing, subtle dance you have ever experienced and your lover's hand is in yours, could you would you should you acknowledge the lingering aftertaste of it that twists incessantly in your mouth?

not that there is truth nor reality in my ramblings, they are after all random afternoon thoughts on a random afternoon of a random day.

i can paint the colour of your touch on my canvas of discrepancies