God, I love this time of year! All over the town new beginner classes started. In no time there’ll be new faces, new dancers, new dances, new conversations, new friends. And when they come back home from the first class, they’ll google Lindy Hop, surf the Youtube and Facebook - and they’ll eventually find me, and click the like button. And likes will fall like rain, there will be so many of them, I’ll drown in them and become rich and buy a big dancing hall with a shiny floor and mirrors and I’ll teach them all how to dance, and they’ll all get a free Beginner’s guide. And in the Spring they’ll sing my name. A May breeze will mix the dancers’ shouting and birds’ singing, so an old woman at the window facing the street won’t be able to recognise if the crowd’s yelling “Janakis” or “revolution”. Then the dancing renaissance will start and I’ll be its Michelangelo Buonarroti. Just like Galileo at his time, I’ll spin the globe in an 8-count turn. Eppure balla! And yet it dances.