They know these places. They go looking for them — where the music and the earth and the body become one thing, and something older and wilder rises up to meet them.
They were not always able to find the thin places. Stuck in the country with no name, the body was the home they had been exiled from, the ground refusing their feet.
But look at them now.
In the ballroom. Clasping hands in the push and pull.
In the kitchen. Tapping toes as plates clatter in the sink.
In the forest. Twirling barefoot in time to music only they can hear.
Watch them find the stillness between the steps — the settle, the weight of themselves returned to their own body.
Look at them. Do you see?
They are here, in this body, on this earth, moving —
They are exactly this.
And they are beautiful.