Mexico City dances all the time.
Almost every bus driver has dance music playing in his vehicle, weaving in and out of traffic with thrilling -- and, at times, chilling -- precision.
Even crossing the road here is a kind of dance. There are never any true pedestrian crossings, so when a large enough group of people assembles on the side of the street, they take their turn to cross while the drivers obediently wait for them. No lights or guards are needed to direct the people. There is a collective unspoken sense of timing.
Daily I experience the serendipity (or sometimes confusion) of unforeseen changes in rhythm. They all add to the beauty of the daily push, pull, and turns of life here.
Conversations have a rhythm and a flow. They are a combination of set traditions combined with witty twists, which often culminate in uninhibited laughter. This pattern of riffing on a theme creates both structure and freshness in every interaction.
Twist. Turn. Sun. Rain. Laughter. Tears. Repeat.
This cycle is an stirring song.
These steps are a beautiful dance.
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