Slow notes on movement, mornings, and the women who keep showing up. Written from Geneva, Lucerne, Zürich and once a year a tiled courtyard in Marrakech.
A new café in Carouge. The blossom on the way to class. Three new women in last Sunday's group. Pancakes on a Tuesday. The way someone said "see you at the lake."
Beauty changes how you move. There's a reason ballet companies don't rehearse in fluorescent rooms. The room remembers. So do we.
I almost never want to go. I always come back glad. Three things I tell myself on the way to Lake Zürich at 09:30 — and one thing I tell the women.
One linen shirt. A long skirt. The Butter Glow Set, twice. Two books, neither of which you'll finish. The S68 cup. A scarf for the medina.
We have four. They are unwritten until now. Be kind. Send the photo even if it's blurry. Plus-ones welcome twice. No Pilates discourse.
Last summer's boat day, in twelve photos and a list of everything that almost went wrong. (None of it did. Everything that mattered went right.)
Quiet. Personal. No discount codes. We send a recap of the weekend's class, what we packed for the next event, and one piece of writing — that's it.
