I don’t strut, I don’t stand. I don’t run, I don’t Walk. These days, I skip.

Rising temperatures burnt the last winter away. Bodies are moving faster and slower, back and forth. In the air one second and grounded the next. I am still asking myself what magic the sound of music is.

I have been told that over time, it is possible you forget how to skip. How to leap for a tiny bit. It is truly a tragedy. Whether it be for the reaction to a song, to happiness or out of sheer boredom, a skip can help to elevate the moment, quite literally.

When researching is tragedy, I have come across several people that try their hardest to remember, but fail. Their bodies are not able to reproduce the outburst. Maybe it is their minds that inhibit it. Maybe they have been taught to stop skipping. Who is in charge of this censorship?

Stand up, rise up. Follow along with me and just for a moment, be active, be silly. Skip at a strange time to fight against this societal self-censorship! Skip at the supermarket, skip in a meeting, skip into class, skip to your table reservation. What the hell, skip at a funeral. For all we know, the deceased would have needed a skip.

As for now, see you next time. In the street. Being strange, skipping. Keep being weird.