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AR: I was talking to someone recently about finishing something, as well ending a chapter but it never feels like it's finishing, because for me as a dancer you just keep going from one thing to another. To have this moment of reflection that is not just with myself, but with another person is really perfect.

IA: Could you introduce yourself and describe what it is that you do?

 

AR: I grew up in Mumbai and I left when I was 19 years old because I wanted to study dance; I was in a dance company back home in my teens where I did the junior company and then went on to the main company for three of my teenage years. I think I reached a point where I wanted more for myself and I wanted to widen my horizons a little bit so I decided to study dance. My mom and dad were adamant that I needed to get a degree and this was one of my first journeys into this big dance world that I didn't know existed. When I was 19 I went to Liverpool to study at LIPA (Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts) and it was very different to what I expected. Obviously there's a cultural element and differences but also in terms of cities because I’d never been abroad for a long period of time; the first time I came to the UK I stayed with my sister for two days (she was studying here) and then I went up to LIPA and she dropped me off in Liverpool. It was just very different. Very different people, the accent, and a very different environment. It took me a while to get into it, but I found my footing slowly. I think being in that position made me grow up a little bit more. I was like OK, I'm here now, I’ve got to do this. So I started opening up as a person a lot more than I did back home. Being in a performing arts school helped me and ensured I didn’t close myself off just into the dance world. There were actors, musicians, set designers and lighting designers that I made friends with and some are still part of my life now which has helped me become a little bit more curious and more open to other artists.

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I always say I'm a contemporary dancer, but I didn't know I wanted to be a dancer. There was something about the freedom I found within contemporary dance and a level of self-expression that I found through it - especially improvisation. Reflecting now, this is because there was not not a lot of agency back home in India for me in dance and there’s very little space to develop your own voice and hone your own practice as an artist, so my first taste of improvisation tasted like freedom. I graduated in 2017 and I was on a student visa. I went to China to work for a bit with my contemporary dance teacher and then came back to London again, but my visa was running out and for the last few months I wanted to see if I could audition for companies, but there were no auditions happening at the time.

 

I did a workshop with Sade and Kristina (Alleyne Dance) for a week towards the end of that time and it was great - they were mentoring me - but then my visa ran out and I went home. When I was home I found out from my ballet teacher at LIPA - who sent me a message - about this Rambert2 audition which was happening and they said I should go and do it. I was skeptical because it was an open audition and I would have to fly to the UK just for this one audition, it wasn’t like there were a bunch of them lined up, and it was a long way to go for something that I may or may not get. It was a lot of money, a lot of traveling but also visas, because I have an Indian passport. It was my mom at the time who said you have to go, if you’ve studied this (dance), you need to keep practicing, be in practice and put yourself out there. She and my sister were like, you never know, you might not get it, but you can't sit here, you have to go try.

 

I got to the UK the day before the audition and it was four days of intense auditions with 800 people, but they narrowed it down to just 13 of us and I was in the junior company (Rambert2) which started 2018 for a year and then I was in the main company up until the end of August 2024 which is when I quit. So predominantly my life has been in a company, before LIPA and then afterwards, so it felt like it's a safe space for me, because that’s the only structure I knew that and I’d had a great time in them.

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IA: What is your relationship to endings?

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AR: For me, I don’t see them as something sad and that's to do with my detachment style. I am good at detaching from things. There's very few moments that I felt like OK, this is an end to something. I never see them as a definite thing, unless it’s something that's physical, like a death, that's the end of something. You're never gonna see or feel or be with that person again, but other than that I think endings don't seem definite to me, they seem open-ended. Again, I think it's a way of detaching but also a mode of self-preservation, to not feel so emotionally attached. I think I'm a sensitive person and I've realised that more and more that if I know this is going to be an ending, the end of something or the finish line for me, then it feels like I would be too emotionally involved and then it would be hard for me to leave that place. So it feels like a passage between one thing and another, which you can keep going in and out of, it doesn't feel like a door and it's shut now. Not just in terms of my career, I feel like that about relationships and people in my life. I've had friends who have been part of my life since I was very young but those sort of relationships become or the contact becomes sparser as we grow older, but I don't think about that relationship or that person like it’s the end of it. I don't think like that and I carry the same philosophy into my art and my work

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IA: In terms of Rambert, you said that you quit and that was a decision to end something, a definite kind of full stop. Could you talk about that?

 

AR: It was very clear to me. This was one of the first times when I said, OK, this is what I want and it was because I was getting comfortable. I feel like this pull towards being safe and secure was… I could either dive, leave and be unstable and not know what the future holds or I could be very, very comfortable and stay put. If I would have stayed - not necessarily finish my career at Rambert - but I don't think I would have grown the same way that I am now. There’s a culture shift, like when I was young and I moved from my home to another country to study. I don't mind change, so in that way I was OK, I don't want to get comfortable, I need to end this, so I can begin again and start somewhere that feels a bit unstable, a bit unsure. But it’s here where there's so much potential and this potential in feeling unstable is almost like…at Rambert I didn't really feel like - in my artistic growth - there were things coming up in the company that didn’t excite me and I don't want to stay somewhere like that. I feel like I'm so ready for this next thing, to get out of the company, finish that part of my journey and start this - I don't know - unsure, unpredictable life. But this excites me. It's scary, but it's exciting.

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IA: Is that you putting a pause or an end to company life? Being in a company?

AR: I think I want to get out of that, especially all the things that come with it, like the hierarchies and the institutionalisation of things. I want a break from that. It’s only two companies, my previous company and Rambert, so I can't say that I’m done with companies but I don't think that I'm looking to be in another company. I'm open to see what opportunities arise and I am enjoying this freedom that I have of choosing what I want to do, choosing the people that I want to work with and who I want to be surrounded by. Spaces are important to me and these spaces have been curated for me for so long, I feel like stepping out of that on my own with people, meeting new artists and expanding my interactions and networks. That has already increased in the last month or so, I've never had that freedom. It's a bit of both, I want to end me in a company because I've been in a company for too long, but I’m open to being in a company in the future, I don't know, it really depends if it’s the right company. I don't know what the right company means, but if it’s really enticing to me - I don’t know why, but something’s telling me to try.

IA: Was there a ritual or a marker of leaving - some people gonna buy a new jacket or go to a specific place for example?

AR: Like a physical thing? I don't know. Obviously, I cleaned out my locker and that was quite interesting because there was so much stuff in there, it's like where has this come from? I was just trying to get everything out of the locker and cleaning it for whoever's gonna use it next. That felt almost like a rinse, like I'm making space for someone else to come in, stay and take this space because it doesn't feel like mine anymore. And that felt OK, I need to leave and detach. Getting things out of the locker felt very much like that. The full stop for me was when I exited the WhatsApp group, I said goodbye to everyone, thank you and I was like this is it and I left the chat. I’m not part of the family that I had made, I mean I still have my friends and I'll still interact with them, but not in the same space that we were interacting in before. So leaving this weird virtual space felt like a definitive moment of goodbye.

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IA: Where and how long have you been holding the idea for Nadi?

 

AR: It started with a piece I made last July, it was the first time that I made a piece for the choreographic platform that was happening at Rambert. That piece was called What About The Rain? which was inspired by the monsoon season in Mumbai, because in July it's monsoon season at home and it was almost like all these things came flooding back, all these things that have happened that I want to tie that into this idea of hyper reality. I was thinking of all of the memories of this faint nostalgia, of being there in monsoon season and all these different places that I used to visit. One of the places was my aunt's house and I remember we would be in the house and it would be pouring with rain, it would get really dark really early, so my aunt would make delicious food and we’d be sat around and she’d be telling us these stories. I remember those stories now, but I'd never really thought of them, but they were there at the back of my mind and I now I look back and there’s something intriguing about a) how they were told b) who they were told by and c) there was always this narrative of the whole thing. So I thought, OK, that's something to hold on to, but I left that because I was focusing on What About The Rain and then when I applied for Choreodrome at The Place, that was the first time I remembered, oh, you know that thing I thought the monsoon season, I want to bring that back and see if I can use that to have a reflexive, therapeutic commentary on things that happened - especially to women in India and me having experienced those things. Some of them. But also shedding a little bit of light too on the practices and social constructs that are still very much present in India. I experienced it and I say this to my friends all the time. Every time I go back home I feel like a different person, whereas every time I'm in the UK I feel like a different person. As much as I don't want to say that I do, I code switch. The way I dress, the way I talk to people, I’m hyper aware of people looking at me, because people look at you all the time. There’s something in their culture that people just look at you and that doesn't happen in London, people are not interested in you here. So in India I feel a little bit more exposed, but because I don’t like to draw too much attention I become a different person. I become a little bit more stern, I don’t smile at everyone, because sometimes a smile is perceived as an invitation. My conditioning, having grown up as a young girl, has been a school of “Don't smile, you don't want that man to come and talk to you.” I feel like two different people when I go back home and when I'm here - especially my interactions and observations around women and how they are treated in this space - my extended family are still a bit regressive in the way they hold space for women and how women are treated and spoken to. My immediate family, my mum, my sister, my brother, my brother-in-law and my dad - I'm very lucky to have a progressive and forward thinking family and there’s some strong, independent women who don't stand for this. I'm not saying the other women aren’t strong, they are incredibly strong, I think they’re incredibly resilient but there is a deep conditioning that needs to be addressed and deconstructed. Why are you talking like this? How do you think that it's OK to talk and treat someone like this?

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IA: Patriarchy and the caste system are deeply embedded.

 

AR: Exactly. I can get into this because this is a whole thing for me. Patriarchy. Yes. Absolutely. I'm not a religious person, but I’m a Hindu and Hinduism in its scriptures are deeply patriarchal, deeply sexist and extremely casteist. Because of this there’s pockets of society that have certain privileges and can speak up, but even that is nuanced. In Mumbai, certain interactions with a woman from a lower caste and a woman from an upper caste - both are in fear of extreme patriarchy and sexism - but the privilege in their class and caste changes things drastically. In the UK I’ve felt it a bit with the Indian community…I can't be fully open because they have a sense of “India” and they want to attach their idea about India to a nostalgia because it's a part of them that they've left behind. Their ancestry and their roots are there, so they romanticise the festivals and the idea being Indian - which I understand - but because I've been there, and I'm like, no, it's not this incredibly spiritual place that everyone claims it is. There's parts of it that are, but most of it is not. I have a hard time celebrating festivals because they are deeply casteist and sexist - people are like Happy Diwali - and I feel bad because I don't want to celebrate…I understand nostalgia and why people romanticise it, but there's a way to do both. To love something and also criticise it. I think that's when you truly love something, when you are OK, are able to criticise it and say things need to change. People don’t speak about all the atrocities that are happening back home to the minorities and women even now. The idea that India is coming into a digital age, I’m like, hold on, why are we looking at this through this capitalist lens. Who cares? Right now that's not what we should be focusing on.

IA: Did these things feed into Nadi?

AR: Absolutely. I also think because I am from - what they call a scheduled caste or a scheduled tribe - the Koli community, which is the fisherman community. I as a young girl...being a girl in this society, even my distant relatives, I would be told who I am. I'd be told what my identity is. You're a Koli, you're dark skinned and those things stayed with me. I wanted to bring back the movement and the quality of my people and celebrate it. There's a Koli folk dance and that’s a big part of where I draw my inspirations from. It's because it's been stereotyped, used and monetised in Bollywood, that's why I don't say that I studied Bollywood dance, but it's not really a dance, it's an industry. I say Indian folk dance because it's an amalgamation of Indian classical dance, folk dances and western dance dance. Everything's been taken into this big ball and now we're gonna commercialise it.

I think all of my experiences are almost a reclaiming of this idea of what the Koli dance is and how you can use it in contemporary movement. It’s not just the stereotypical thing you see with a Koli hat and on the boards and how it's seen in cinemas. I wanted to use it for contemporary movement, because the movement of the people are suffering from displacement and urbanisation. The coastline of Mumbai is where these communities live, and more and more of these people have been displaced and sent to the outskirts of Mumbai. But this is their livelihood, they go and fish there. But because some organisations want to build bridges and develop it they pay these communities to move. It’s gentrification but it’s also it the act of developing it, there’s this idea of “progress” and we want to build a bridge from this side of the sea to that side of the sea and it’s destroying the ecosystem. So many scientists have told them to stop and stop building so many different things at the same time. It's impossible for the ecosystems to hold on because there's a bridge being built across the sea, then there's an underground railway station being built and multiple stadiums. I was like, what is happening? When you land in Mumbai, you're in a cloud of smoke and you don't see the sun any more. It's shocking. All of these experiences definitely came to my mind when I was making Nadi, these ingredients were the inspiration that I drew from.

IA: Thinking back to presenting Nadi at Rambert in July 2024, how does it feel now looking back at it as a thing with some distance? It's been 6 weeks. What are your reflections on the creation period and what you presented?

AR: It was a great thing to have distance, but I actually performed it 2 weeks ago in Italy. So I revisited it for 5 days before we performed it and it was different. I think it's good that we had some distance. You do something, you go away from it, you reflect back and see it again with fresh eyes. The creation process was a good learning curve because it was a duet and I'd never made a duet before and it was on myself and my partner - so there's relationship dynamics there – and there's also me choreographing something on myself with no outside eyes on it. I was like, “this feels strange to film all the time” but those were the only tools we had. So we had to figure out a way of working for my own creative practice. But now I know how I want to structure things and how I want to start to form the layers of what my creative practice is based on and what I’m really trying to do

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IA: What are those layers? What are you trying to do?

AR: What are they? OK. One of the first things I think of - before thinking about the structure of the piece – is I like working with images in my own head. I start from a still image and then either decide how to move out of it and what it develops into or where it's coming from. A lot of the images are using a lot of the modalities that I've learned in my previous experiences but I’ve flipped them on their head. So a way of generating movement - it doesn't just come from 5, 6, 7, 8, I don't think I've ever done that, I've never put counts to something – is I work with rhythm a lot. Rhythm for me has been a big thing. Listening and coming up with rhythms and choreographing to the rhythm rather than just moving or just counts. Especially for group work, I like starting with an impetus and it could be a very simple set of movements or using the same movements in different ways. Looking at one movement and whatever the moment is, how many different ways can you do the same movements. Then if I had to make it into a duet or if I had to make it into a trio using tasks to help generate that movement or the quality of movement that I want to elaborate on. But having thought of Nadi and how I would revisit it or have revisited it, I’ve already have changed so many things. I've changed the structure, I've changed how transitions happen, I've changed how long we sit in something. I think it needed more time before we presented it at Rambert. I look back at it and I figure it needed maybe another week or 5 days. I didn't see it as a finished product and I finished it the day before we presented it. If I had a few more days to look at it, take a step back and say let me see how it flows as a piece for someone who doesn't know it. That's another thing for my creative practice - looking at my own work as if I don't know what it's about, that’s a hard thing to do because you are so involved in the story and you become it. What about the people that don't understand it? How do I say what I want to say, but leave it a little bit open ended and guide them in the right direction? I don't want to tell them this is what you need to see, but I want to present something that they can hold on to. I need to slow down. I need to slow down because my brain goes...and this happens and then that happens and then this and then this comes up and that comes up. People don't know that. My hyperactive brain needs to breathe. The audience will take some stillness and silence. I want to give space for people to draw their own conclusions and really take something in before it disappears. I misjudge how long it takes an audience member to take something in. I feel like they're all with me because they're in my brain, but they're not in my brain, they have their own brain and they're watching this with a fresh set of eyes. What you want to get across needs to be crafted in a way that has a little bit more for them to grab onto. That's the basis of how I wanna start building.

IA: What is the end point of Nadi? What is your ultimate aim for it? Where do you want it to go and what is the full stop?

AR: This is...this is tough because I see it...OK, if I'm being greedy and this is my ideal scenario, maybe not ideal, but a wishful scenario. I feel like I want it to go to theatre in the UK, not just theatres, but open spaces that have a collective feeling. I see it in art galleries, immersive spaces, I see it in India. I wanna take it to India. I want to present something that I'm like “OK, this is me.” This is important for people back home, especially the women and the younger women to see the stregnth and what I want to talk about, understand a little bit more about the struggles, the experiences and the feedback of what it is that I'm trying to talk about. I want to see how it's received because I don't know, I've never done it. So, I would love to take it back home in Indian theatres, but also in remote spaces and makeshift spaces where we can dance, but they might have never experienced contemporary dance before. They might not see know it as a piece of contemporary dance, but might just see it as a piece of art. And maybe they’d be like look at this woman and this man and how they dance together, this egalitarian movement. I want it to reach people and want it to reach people in Italy - we just did that it a theatre, and people were like, “this is something that we haven't seen before, something so poetic” and that was beautiful to hear.

So, it comes across and it doesn't matter about borders, Nadi is filtering through because everyone can relate and understand the nuances of in some way or another. In my head it would also work as a film, so I’m thinking - we're going to India in November - we'll be going back and we should film it in the place that we were inspired by. I want to bring it into nature and the spaces that these stories are carried in, the spaces that hold these stories. It wasn't made in the studio, it was inspired by the woods, by the river. This is where they lived or were supposed to live. I try to find how I can connect nature and narrative because I feel there’s the common ground of freedom. Nature is the one thing that connects all of us, but look what we're doing to it. So Antonello and I are talking about maybe it a life in film. We don't know what we're gonna do with it - because we're travelling a lot - but I think we'll find time to film parts of it because I think it'll be quite special - just as an archive even - even if it doesn't go anywhere. To have it as an archive, to look back on it in 30 years and think I remember we did that in that space.

IA: Have your family and the communities you’re from seen you perform? Have they seen you dance? Do they know that side of you?

AR: They do, but not everyone. My parents and my immediate family does. I think the last time they've seen me perform live was 2019. My sister, I don't remember the last time, I don't think she's ever seen my shows live. My brother has in 2019, my mom has, my dad hasn't seen me since 2017. That was my LIPA graduation and all of them flew in to see me for my graduation performance. My mom saw me when I did the Invisible Cities show in Manchester in 2019 for Rambert. They haven't seen the changes in my artistry or the development and shifts in me as a person and having that reflected on stage and in my dance. They did see a lot of live streams. So the first live stream was right after COVID. In 2020/21, we did Draw From Within - that was the first one they saw and they loved it because Wim Vandekeybus was a genius when it comes to film. But it didn't feel like a film, it felt like a movie. And then the next one they saw was Eye Candy. That was the first time I think my extended family also saw me and it was a bit of a shock to them because Eye Candy is the one where we have all these prosthetic boobs and the first thing you see is me being brought out in what they thought was a bare chest and it freaked them out. My sister said no, they're fake as a disclaimer and so they liked it. They didn't understand it, but they liked it. Every time I go back home, they ask me, can you just do a little dance? They know that side of me, they know what I do and they have respect for it - my immediate family for sure – but I don’t know about my extended family. I never really get into it with them. They see me as a professional, living a life abroad and that's a big thing for them. They don't understand what I do for a living. But they're like, oh, she's earning and she's living there, so it's a big thing. But when I come back home, they don't see the code switch, for them, for them I've always been like this.

 

For them, there's parts of it where they tell me, “oh, you've lived abroad, so you have a different way of thinking, especially the men...” and they're like, me having the audacity to say something back to a man or reply with a certain tone or if they're older than me. I reply. People look at me and I'm just like, this is me, it's something that comes out in different ways. I can't not say something. I think they think that I'm a bit of a brat, maybe? But they think that it's just a rebellious thing, which I'm like, yeah. I do.

IA: Isn’t that an independent woman exercising her freedom and agency. That's not being a brat.

AR: If I'm not a quiet, shy, well spoken, softly spoken woman – then it's a problem. In that patriarchal society in India, it doesn’t count and it doesn't apply to men. For example, my brother, he’s incredibly intelligent, 2 years younger than I am and he's getting his PhD in philosophy. When he sits down with them [my extended family] and, you know, they'll have an argument and say some not nice things about muslims and minorities, we all go in on them about it – because it’s not nice – but they have a lot more respect and understanding when it comes to him [my brother] getting a little bit angry and heated up about it. They don't really question him. If that happens to me or my sister, they get into, “why are you angry?” Ugh. It's a bit, yeah. I feel like sometimes you're talking to a wall. It's really hard.

When I come back here, it's a different kind of struggle. It's a bit more subtle. It's not so in your face. Being a brown woman here is different. Being in spaces that are institutional and hierarchical and thrive in those structures, being a brown woman is different. I started noticing it more and more in the last 3 or 4 years. If I don't fit into their idea of what they want me to be, it's a problem.

IA: In dance spaces?

AR: Yes, in dance spaces. I either needed to know Indian classical dance - I would love to know that, but I didn't end up learning that. I don't do “Indian” dance and I don't want to teach a Bollywood class. Don't assume I wanna teach a Bollywood class. Let me tell you which class I would like to teach. If I don't fit it what you know or what you expect from me, then it's a problem and I have to fight for it. They wouldn't say this to a White choreographer, they wouldn't say this to a White dancer. They just wouldn't. "Can you teach an Irish dance class if you’re from Ireland?" I don't think you should assume that I'd be OK or want to teach that. I just want to be able to be me. Also there's a lot of classcism, casteism and sexism in bharatantyam and kathak and no one wants to talk about that.

IA: The guru/student relationship is highly problematic.

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AR: Yes! It’s so problematic. Imagine being a vulnerable woman in that situation when your guru can tell you what to do and you have to do this. The amount of...grooming, we can talk about that. I never really fit into the classical anything – ballet etc – I can do it, sure, but I wouldn't say that's where I thrive. No.

IA: Is there anything else that you want to talk about that's to do with endings and dance? It could be an expansion of a previous thought that you have spoken about.

AR: I think when I first spoke to you and why this interview is interesting to me is because I’m the kind of person, What's next? What's next? What's next? I never take the time to stop and look at all these things that have happened and all of the things that can't happen. Actually, no. I have looked at things that I want to do or are possibilities, so I'm more thinking about the future. I'm not thinking about the past and then when something comes to an end, it forces me to be a little bit more reflective. Maybe when something ends, it's a good place to look back on how you got to the end of something. An ending is almost like a portal of what’s happened so far, to help me think how I’m going to move on and do this now. Endings don't stand on their own and that's why I don't think they're definite. I think with an ending, they're always some sort of circle, it's like the circle of life, you’re always regenerating all the way. It’s like the water cycle.

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IA: You never stand in the same river twice.

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AR: Exactly. Water keeps moving and it finds its way. I think Nadi was inspired by the water and the nature around where those stories happened. How could I show the spirit of these incredibly resilient women. It's not a religious thing, when it comes to the past, it's all for the land. People forget that the land moves, changes and shifts. Things can shift it. There was this documentary I was watching which spoke about witch hunt practices in India, happening even now and these women who are widowed or spinsters. They're alone, they're independent. People think that because they can thrive on their own there has to be something wrong with them or they're practicing black magic. For me, let's look at these women as being attached to their land. They're attached to this river and this river that inspires them. It has inspired them for so long to thrive, to navigate life and shift things around them so that they can change and resilient.

IA: How do you consider your own archive? What impression do you want to leave on earth? How do you catalogue, document and record? What do you want to leave behind?

AR: That's a really good question. Right now, where I am in my life, because things will change in the future. The archive is the arts I've experienced and the art that I've made. But also why am I making art? I want it to be archived because maybe 20 years down the line, maybe this won’t go anywhere, but 20 years down the line someone will think about that choreographer who made this piece and it was about this and it was made by someone who had experienced something, but it was also for the people who’s voices maybe weren’t heard. It’s not that people are voiceless, I don't think anyone's voiceless, but at that time they weren't heard and should have been heard. So my archive will definitely have things that you want people to remember. That's how I want to be remembered in my life. It's not an inspiration, but it's courage. Someone can look at me and be like, oh, cool, yeah, that's fine, that happened. If there's one thing that I want archiving about me, is my courage. I can say that because I have been bold, I’ve failed, but I've always tried. I've always tried to find new places, people and journeys, but also the way that I want to live with my art as courage. I don't know if it's gonna lead anywhere, but the courage to make things and the courage to maybe be unstable and the courage to feel like it's OK if it failed. The archive of courage.

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IA: The Archive of Courage is a great title for a new work. Final question. We're in the end times and you could have a last dance with 2 people. Who would they be and what would that dance feel like?

AR: Just 2 people? Immediately my mom comes to mind, I think she'd be there. I think my family, they're all movers, not just in their dance, but in their spirit. They just become more open when they’re in bodies and dancing and I connect with them in a different way. I think if it was the last dance, I don't know if I could pick 2 people, I would just want to be surrounded by all of them with all their weird little ways of moving. I just got married recently and I don't remember anything - I remember 4 or 5 things from the whole day because it went so fast - but I have this very strong image of my mom and Antonello's mom dancing together. And then me and Antonello dancing with our moms together and it was so funny. It's 2 cultures who don't understand each other. Antonello's mom speaks Italian, my mom speaks Gudjrati and they both don't speak English. They're meeting for the first time, they don't know each and they don't speak the same language. But they were dancing, and they were dancing like they've they've known each other like they're friends. My mom would definitely be one of the people I would dance with in the end times. My family. I can't pick 2 people. Sorry. I think with Antonello it’s different. I dance with Antonello all the time, so it's not like I'm missing anything. It sounds crazy, but that's how I know him. But with my family, it’s something special, I don't see them dance very often, but when I do, I'm like, yeah. It's something that we connect on, it’s an embodied happiness.

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