intellectual vitality

I’d never given my body much thought; it was simply a vehicle, and any movement was strictly utilitarian. So when I had to choreograph an original routine for dance class, it felt like trying to write an essay in a new language.

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unplanned empathy

My plan for eighth grade would have been perfect, if only Advanced Guitar hadn’t conflicted with Honors Geometry. But it did, so my counselor put me in Percussion, a class comprised of twenty foul-mouthed druggies and burnouts.