For the last couple of days I've been messaging with a young man of arabic ascent who wanted to buy two beds from me. It's been laborious because he had a lot of questions and going back and forth Google Translate on mobile is cumbersome. But we stuck through and two days ago he showed up to see the beds in person, and promised he would come with a truck and the payment next day. I warned him that if he didn't give an advance I wouldn't hold it for him, but he said he was sure he would come tomorrow morning.

Next day (yesterday) came and I didn't hear from him in the morning. Another buyer pinged me. He wanted to buy the beds that same night. He wrote in Spanish. I told him to come. I wanted to give the beds to the young man because it felt like he was the right buyer, but this new buyer was more practical. I thought: if I sell the beds to the young man I will help him, if I don't sell them to him I help him too, because he will learn a lesson.

In the evening, as I rode my bike to yoga, the young man wrote "can I call you?", "Sorry man, you said you would come but I have a buyer willing to come tonight so I'm giving the beds to him". He pleaded with me. I told him I would give them to him if he made a transfer for the full amount, then I would cancel the other buyer who was coming that same night. Almost arriving to the yoga studio he made the transfer and then called me. I told him I was glad he was the buyer. I rushed to class at my new studio, being almost late because of the texting at the stops.

I enjoyed going back to yoga and went deep into it. I was surrounded by beauty: the studio, the teacher, the classmates, and this never fails to inspire me. Well, that's not true, it had failed to inspire me in my last few practices. Briefly before my dancing fever I felt I was doing yoga by rote and I felt something inauthentic. Sometimes you need a break from the things you love so that you can appreciate them more.

After class I was mellow and slightly unwilling to go back home. Yet I grabbed a bike and started pedaling back home, but because this is a new studio I was disoriented and ended running into Park La Fontaine, which was not in my route. I biked around and saw that there was an event about to start in the amphiteather. I asked the people at the entrance what kind of event was it, it was a concert. Perfect, I just needed to park my bike.

The nearest bixi station was full, so I made my way to the next one. The next one was nearly full too, with two docks free as me and a young black man arrived. My bike was returned flawlessly, his was not, and soon he was slamming the bike into the dock. "Wait" I told him "you need to treat this like sex, let me show you", I held the bike from the seat and the frame and lifted it, carefully inserting the prong of the bike into the slot of the dock. It didn't work. "Sorry, if the dock didn't take that gently it won't take it violently, it's as if your partner was dead, find another dock". The man chuckled and thanked me, and I walked back to the theater. In the background, I began to hear the man slamming the bike into the dock again. I shook my head.

The concert was given by a fellow named Patrice Michaud. He was very charming and skilled, and had a great presence on stage.

As most people were sitting down during most of the concert, most of the dancing was done sitting in place. Late into the concert people stood up and begun dancing. A lady in front of me was particularly enthusiastic about and that helped me loosen up. I've seen: dancing is contagious. When you dance, when I dance, we spread it. Some people hate this, I used to hate it, because suddenly you find yourself a stiff among dancing people. Not anymore, I may be the one initiating dancing.

Oh I have become everything I hated, and I'm loving it.

After the concert I made my way back home without a hint of remorse for having attended yoga and the concert. It felt like the right place to be, even though I'm short on time. Let's get to work.