Notes written at Cafe Louvre on notecards they leave on the tables in case patrons have epiphanies:
I feel like I've learned so much about dancing and I haven't even danced yet. I've slowed down and actually looked at the people, the woman with the red hat, red lipstick, black dress with white polka dots watching the 2 girls laugh and "splash" around in the water bubble on the river. I've drunk beer, seen torture instruments and the most beautiful violet-glowing stained glass windows, and eaten svichkova and a flat white with hazelnut milk, climbed "abs and glutes" down and up a forrest path, ate the sticky pastry thing. I volunteered the information that I was Jewish for the first time since coming to Europe, remembering that I embarked on this Zouk journey in search of community, trying to find one more diverse that also spoke to me. I like dances I study, but not all dances create communities, which is why this one is so special. I'm sitting by an open sunny window enjoying my food, reading the international New York Times/"slime" that my Popy taught me how to fold, thinking I've learned more about dance in talking and eating with people in Prague than at many workshops combined... also why are you making a laughingstock of us, NYT? smh...