In the beginning I feel some resistance towards exploring my anger, partly because the sick kid of the choreographer is occasionally looking up at me from its toys – I fear my anger might be noisy or alienating, and also, I just don’t feel very in touch with it

I start with a defensive anger, tearing something off my body that forces itself onto it. Only when I present my research to the team later I express that I am actually angry all the time it is just not a very expressive anger but rather a fuel that is underlying all my activities, it is a silent steady vibration that makes me keep tempo, keeps my reactivity high, keeps me alert 

I am a person in an uncomfortable situation they have already decided to do nothing about. I will at times pull off the sticky fabric from my skin but I will not take my shirt off. On the surface I try to deal smoothly with the communicatory tasks, somewhere between my anger and my diplomatic visage there is a transformative breathing technique in action, I try to boogie with it, smooth joints, there is a boiling pot and I am dancing in the steams of this pot. I am diplomatic on the outside, steamy on the inside.