“All right, Mortensen, last chance. Are you ready to make the switch from voyeur to exhibitionist?”He inclined his head toward me curiously. “Are we still talking about dancing?”“Well, that depends, I suppose. I heard someone once say that men dance the same way they have sex. So, if you want everyone here to think you’re the kind of guy who just sits around and—”He stood up. “Let’s dance.”

“Well, that depends, I suppose. I heard someone once say that men dance the same way they have sex. So, if you want everyone here to think you're the kind of guy who just sits around and—" He stood up. "Let's dance.”

“Luke grabs my hand. I turn to see a look of pure horror on his face. "This," he says, "is a dance?" "You were expecting what?" I say. "Why are they not dancing?" I look around the gym again. "Well, most people are dancing." I nod at the freshman boys, who have resorted to doing the robot. "They're dancing." Luke looks completely unconvinced. "And the music," he says, "is it always this.....loud?" I laugh. "You sound like you're forty. You have been to a dance before, right?" Luke looks offended. "Yes. Of course. But it was more..." he surveys the gyrating bodies around us "....civilised that this." He turns to me accusatory. "And you. Have you been to a dance?”

“I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions about my dance partners.” He raised his arms in defense. “All I’m saying is that the guy let you trip and fall. I worry about you dancing in someone else’s arms.”

“Dance makes me better in all things. Dance makes me endure all things. Dance makes me a believer in taking what isordinary about myself and turning it into something extraordinary. I dance just because I can. It is important to tell you: If I can dance, so can you.”

“I believe in the complexity of the human story and that there’s no way you can tell that story in one way and say, This is it. Always there will be someone who can tell it differently depending on where they are standing; the same person telling the story will tell it differently. I think of that masquerade in Igbo festivals that dances in the public arena. The Igbo people say, If you want to see it well, you must not stand in one place. The masquerade is moving through this big arena. Dancing. If you’re rooted to a spot, you miss a lot of the grace. So you keep moving, and this is the way I think the world’s stories should be told—from many different perspectives.”