Anne-Marie Van alias Nach came across krump by chance, aged 22, outside the Lyon Opera House. A student of English at the time, she was rapidly sucked in by this urban dance genre, whose potency she had previously only gauged in Rize, David Lachapelle’s famous documentary. The weight of melded laughter and suffering in krump circles fascinated her. She acquired the rudiments and crossed the thin border between bystanders and dancers, finding a community that passed on what they knew. These were moments of sharing and discovery, releasing words she had long kept inside. She danced her lust for life. She krumped the urgent feeling she had to find out about the world before its demise. With the others, she laughed and cried in the same tremor, celebrating the most gentle but also the most violent gifts that life could offer. Soon, the curiosity that had led her to dance unveiled fresh horizons.