“The groove is so mysterious. We’re born with it and we lose it and the world seems to split apart before our eyes into stupid and cool. When we get it back, the world unifies around us, and both stupid and cool fall away.
I am grateful to those who are keepers of the groove. The babies and the grandmas who hang on to it and help us remember when we forget that any kind of dancing is better than no dancing at all.”
― Lynda Barry, One Hundred Demons
Find more here: Ballroom shelf.
Dancers churned around them like storm tossed flowers, their heads held to either side as they whirled with abandonment.
“Look at them,” he whispered, his voice in her ear. “Have you ever seen anything like it? They have everything, don’t they? Everything except a single care to dwell on.”
― Kelly Creagh, Nevermore

“I met Ana doing free weights,” Roger said. “This hard-body señorita was putting me to shame on squats, and I asked her how she got such a tight ass —”

“And then she decked you.”

“Nah, she loved it! She’s real proud of that butt — she should be. She took me to one of her classes, and I got hooked. She’s a Zumba instructor.”

Grant absorbed that information for a moment. “You do…Zumba?”

“It’s great! Much more fun than PT. You just get going…” He did a little two-step maneuver on the city street, dancing to an unknown Latin beat. “Cha cha cha. Heeuh? Ana does this a little better than me…”

Grant tried to hold it in. He really did. But his body quivered, his shoulders shook, and soon a whooping laugh erupted — which lasted quite a few seconds.

Roger abruptly stopped his dance. “You judge, Madsen. Not cool.”
― Jennifer Lane, On Best Behaviorv

“The dense fog manifests ever-living gravestones, the tunes of decadence, the hearts that were doomed to dance alone. Here lies untouched beauty, a brittle dream, an unseen sea-born nightmare, an isolated acheirous harf, fishbones without flesh, a face without letters, the hypnotic power o Apollonian destruction. Ashes kiss the grapefruit essential oil skin, the soul beats with eaten sons and daughters, soaking wet serpents with cuspid tongues lollop for legendary goddesses.”
― Laura Gentile, Seraphic Addiction