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I was tested and taxed on the verge of doorways dragging a large drum out of one self-closing door that acted like a tight-lipped word that has to get it right right there and then, whatever the bit between its teeth. On that occasion the bit between its teeth was my finger and did it hurt! So much so that I knelt down in the corridor despite the overhead cameras and groaned out loud as if praying or wracked by grief, lost in the moment. Pain has a way of doing that to you and suddenly there you are. It was all senseless in the end because the room I was vacating was never used due to a cancellation and so sat empty and bare as I pressed myself into the much smaller sensory room. When i switched on the bubble tube that rose and fell with a burbling sound into colors that changed from red to blue, that's when I really began to feel sick.

But before this kneeling on the ground still between rooms, I was discovered by a Learning Assistant who deftly picked up the drum and deposited it in the small room then busied herself with other tasks before leaving the space. I finally got the room sorted and went out to pick up the American Girl who began nodding her head vigorously and swaying at the side of her mother. It turned out she enjoyed being in the small room because she likes to fixate on the image of both of us in the mirror waving back at ourselves. It's a strange scene like being on holiday in a far away place then posing for a shot then unsatisfied with this shot, moving slightly and trying again. But there we were each time staring back picture perfect and smooth to the touch.

It takes a good drum beat and a lot of vocal experimentation to tilt us off the vertical line and into a fascination of our own drama rather than the image before us.With her sitting on my lap she could pretty much steer me and by leaning back or from side to side I would collapse in this direction taking her on a ride she was predisposed to. I was told the American Girl has movement sickness and would throw up continually on the journey between America and  the UK. If she was driving the plane, leaning into the curves, lifting into the expansiveness of the throttles' release, there would be no such mismatches. Language  can be angled anywhere; between the light-headedness of sound variation and the compression/release of pressing into and away from contact one can navigate even in the foreclosed space of a mirrored room which is six meters by four.