the sensation of excercise after weeks of lolling about and wheezing.
swinging a rope around my body, feeling the rise and fall of the momentum, waiting for the right moment and following its path with my feet, my wrists fluttering like bats, bated breath, waiting, waiting, swing...
in the darkened living room practicing tenkan with the bokken we found in rebecca's trunk, whirling around back and forth, letting the force take the sword up over my head and drop it down again. as i turn it protects my crown from a blow, when i rest it protects my front from a slash. don't work, do nothing, i make minute corrections to my stance, the steps rising out of distant memory: up on the balls of the feet, following the floor board back and forth.
it feels good to move, to possess my body again, and i'm reluctant to go to sleep.