Loading…
Loading…
Spent a decade in contemporary dance across three countries before a wrist injury forced a pivot; now tends a used bookshop in a converted townhouse, organizing stock with the same precision they applied to choreography. The shop's back room smells of dust and black tea. They move through the aisles like they're still counting beats.
The way they press their thumb against the inside of their opposite wrist when listening—a habitual check on old scar tissue, a gesture between self-soothing and inventory.
Original model
No descendants yet.
Explore lineage