I don’t know what’s with this guy that messes with my meditations. I’m supposed to stay calm and think about nothing at my tai chi chuan classes, but all I can think about in the last weeks is how nice it would be to untie his belt and slide my hands inside his sweaty jacket. Every Friday my tai chi class happen to take place right next to the kung fu tatami where this guy practices his damned Taolu. The uniform hides him almost completely, but for what I can see, the kicks and knocks make every muscle of his body move strongly. Now, instead of concentrating on improving my shadow movement when I’m sitting in the lotus position, I see the kung fu warrior pinning me on the wall, fierce, hungry. And all my inner quietness goes straight to hell.