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A blonde gymnast in a blue leotard stands on tiptoe with a large gold hoop in her hands.

By 2022, I had been a rhythmic gymnast for 15 years. I had competed for 12, of which 7 were at the national level. I was recovering from several injuries that I was pretending weren’t career-ending. I was losing love for the sport. Then Nikolova showed up and reminded me what rhythmic gymnastics could be.

The rusty motorcycle took a sharp swerve, slightly tossing my damp backpack. Sitting in the backseat under the poncho flap extending from my father’s back, I tried to guess our location through the thick curtain of monsoon rain.

how can you love someone without craving / their insides?

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