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My current life is basically kilometres. Car. Classes. Activities. Home. Car again. Voice notes from car parks. Snacks handed over mid-door-opening. Repeat. I’m either driving somewhere, driving back from somewhere, or trying to remember what I came into the kitchen for. The washing basket is undefeated. Food prep comes in brief, slightly chaotic bursts of hope. And anything that resembles quiet or movement for me usually starts at 5am. It’s a lot. Like, it is a lot!

What you’re seeing is a lyrical dance workshop. What you’re not seeing is the full-blown board meeting happening in my head while I do it. “Point your feet.” “Relax your shoulders.” “Why are you making that face?” “Interesting choice, Cal.” “Was that contemporary or a minor medical episode?” And yet. Here I am.

“Wait… are we accidentally outsourcing our friendships?” You know that one friend you always go to for something specific? The one who somehow always knows the best café. The one who can decode relationship drama like it’s their full-time job. The one you text when your kid has a weird rash, your plant is dying, or you need a dinner spot with parking and good chips. And the beautiful thing is, they LOVE being that person for you.