Between one beat and the next

It wasn’t a performance — it was a room breathing in rhythm. The dancers hit their lines and rhymes with a precision that spilled straight into the crowd. You could feel it on their faces, in their shoulders, in the way no one stayed still for more than a second.

I just followed the beat and waited for the in-between moments. Sweat, joy, tension, release. Nothing posed, nothing staged. Just a night carried forward by the sound.