Reverse Crunch

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Lying on a black, soft surface. Staring at a screen where figures move, electronic chirping, a dangling darkness from the white ceiling, muffled engines beyond the trees, cool air yet to be warmed by the sun, observing that space where the breath leaves the body.

Doing a video off YouTube, laid on a rubbery mat, T-shirt and shorts, trying to avoid hitting the chandelier as I stretch up, two smooth Kiwis showing me where to go next.

Yoga is a lifelong preparation for death.

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