How can I dance, muse, rant, fire-up, picnic, screech over London rent and be ever-hopeful about choreography and all its extended practices?
How can I live, get excited, have more pubic hair than I know what to do with and be ever-hopeful about choreography and all its extended practices?
How can I eat, sing, shop, toss and turn until 4am, freak out about my aging parents and be ever-hopeful about choreography and all its extended practices?
How can I love, drink, puke, be ignorant and stubborn and be ever-hopeful about choreography and all its extended practices?
How can I weep until I dry up, smile as if the world tastes like peanut butter and be ever-hopeful about choreography and all its extended practices?
How can I sigh, leave Facebook, cringe, attend meetings where everyone says yes, attend meetings where everyone looks puzzled and be ever-hopeful about choreography and all its extended practices?
How can I wish I hadn’t said it, learn to listen, perfect a handstand and be ever-hopeful about choreography and all its extended practices?
How can I be disappointed by friendship, mismanage budgets, cycle without gears, do auditions via Skype and be ever-hopeful about choreography and all its extended practices?
How can I rejoice when friends make work, take medication, get flabbergasted by how malicious twitter can make us and be ever-hopeful about choreography and all its extended practices?
How can I shake things up, articulate myself, do nothing, finally get into a studio and be ever-hopeful about choreography and all its extended practices?
How can I recover, stand still, do everything and be ever-hopeful about choreography and all its extended practices?