So my Movement for Actors teacher is this quiet German guy with a really soft voice who plays the piano and has his guitarist friend come in and jam with him sometimes while we all dance around however he wants us to.

(We don't really dance so much as move in different ways and isolate parts of our bodies. It's yoga-esque. Kind of hard to describe. You'd like it, though.)

His name is "MAHHHHHN-fred." Not "MAN-fred."

There are nine of us in the class, and we always circle up and talk about something movement-related before we go and do something movement-related. Then after we're done moving around, we sit back down and talk about it.

Today we were running and skipping and leaping and jumping, and walking like someone you know, walking like some character you made up, walking at varied speeds... it's more fun DOING it than writing about it. But anyway.

So we all sat down afterwards and were talking about everything we had done, and in this really quiet German accent-y voice he said, "you know, I feel very sorry for the poor people across the street sitting at their desks all day long. They ran and skipped and played when they were young, and now they can go to their gyms and get so serious about every move they make. But now, unless there is a fire in the building and they really have to run, they will probably never experience that again. They will never skip again. That part of their lives is gone, they will never feel that kind of joy again. That's very sad to me."

...

It was sad to me, too, Manfred.

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