in georgia's head, there was a turmoil. her legs started moving in the middle of the street, challenging the right order of things. it was as if a spirit of a dancer possesed her, and she suddenly felt disconnected from her body. did I tell him to do that? in her youth, she remembered, her mother tried to convince her to avoid public extravagansa, and she obeyed after a while. it wasn't a custom in her cold catholic Irish heritage to dance freely in front of strangers even if they came to see you. so how did she come to shake her bootie in time's square no less? is this really happening? the line that connects her mind with her body got cut with unseen scissors. or was it actually stregntened? Oh Georgia Georgia. you can't even move from your bed. but I can! in my head. to the sound of silent music, to the smell of far-away lands of joy.