In the relatively new building from which I broadcast my radio programs, there’s a room that was built for ballet practice. (The building is a residential dorm, with four stories above a cellar level for the radio station and many other activity rooms.) The ballet room has a long barre in front of a wall that’s all mirror from top to bottom, end to end. The room is rarely used for ballet practice, because the building’s designers (apparently) were unaware that ballet dancers sweat. There is no extra A/C in the room. The room contains no chairs or mattresses, but it does get used.
One summer, as I approached the radio station (about 6 a.m.) a pair of undergraduates passed me on their way to the ballet room. Arm-in-arm, they looked half-awake. He wore pajamas. She wore shorty pajamas. They both wore flip-flops on their feet. As they closed the door behind them, I thought about that immense mirror and wished them well.