February 23, 2009
We seem to be afraid of spontaneity: we tend towards the measured, clearly thought-out responses that leave our speeches dull, unburnished chests of words. ‘Where shall I go from?’ – simply ignored and spoken over. Snatches of giggling laughter rise from her throat in a fit of nervous energy. Legs crossed at the ankles, balanced on the outside of each foot, hands thrust firmly in the back-pockets of her jeans as she sways her body in time to her answers. Cheeks flushed and chest red; all smiles and gushed agreement. She has apologised for everything – it’s forever etched upon her face.