You wake up on one of the Méridien's floors. The hotel is already alive. In the lobby, the coffee is still steaming, voices weaving around the day's Pro-Ams. People talk, laugh, watch. And somewhere in all that, the day is already taking shape — without ever really forcing a direction on you.
10am. You pick a hard Body workshop. A real challenge, but not out of reach.
At noon, time loosens. You share lunch on-site with dancers you met the night before. The conversations carry on, as if the night had never really ended.
2pm. Two spaces, two energies. On one side, a choreographic intensive for those who chose it. On the other, an open social — alive, free. Nothing is exclusive, everything coexists.
4pm. Finals. From an armchair, coffee in hand, you watch the energy gather right in front of you.
10pm. The main hall opens, and the night gently takes over.
Then midnight. The setting shifts without warning. The tempo slows, grows denser, closer. The blues settles in, almost like a collective breath. Do you stay, or join the Switch & Steal already lighting up in the next room?
You didn't notice the day go by.
And no one else lived the same day.