After another seven hours of tap (that makes 14 hours in 36 hours!) all my blood is in my ankles… so I’ll just recount one moment.
Ten minutes into Jason’s class, the lights snap out and the room, in darkness, ricochets with a mad tribal call and response session in sauna like humidity, with just the whites of Jason’s taps picking up the security lights. The blindness is liberating and we manically tap in a solid group of sweaty rhythic animals. What seems fifteen minutes (but probably five) is quite eurphoric.
And then it’s back to the double shuffle pickup flapping at the pace of a bats out of hell.
Then luckily we do the same time step as yesterday and while I still don’t get the total (sorry if I’m starting to speak French), at least understand it and get the beginning that he slows down to look like this (this is for you class mates when you’re back in Brazil/France/UK thinking ‘how on earth did that great time step of Jason’s start… and to put in my pocket for next Paris Basement tap session-check it out Camille):
