“Exactly! Now, the pelvis tilts—good grief, not back—arse in, such as it is, groin up, such as it is, stomach tight. At least pretend you have a spine. You are not uncooked tripe, you are sculpted from marble! And we walk. No, we walk. No, erect, like a human rather than a beast of the fields, imagine that. No, not clomping on your heels like Vigga Ullasdottr, no, not swaggering like Baptiste, on the balls of your feet! They caress the ground with the tender touch of a lover, weightless. Yes! Your big toes follow one another in a direct line from here to your desires. Own the room! This is
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