An affection born out of having to make a home out of the confines of dance, or of physically holding up another person. A dream exhibit born out of desperation. I am obsessed with this, I imagine, because of how many times I have leaned into someone or something and called it love, because it had to be. Because if it wasn’t love, then something else would crumble. Sure, the stakes were not a hot meal, or a warm and sheltered place. The stakes for me were sometimes depression, sometimes loneliness, sometimes a morning I didn’t think I could make it to. I am in love with the idea of partnering
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