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How Movement Became My Breath — and My Language of Gratitude

  • Nov 19
  • 3 min read

By Andrei Kentsis


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When I was a child, movement was forbidden to me.


I was born with severe allergies and chronic asthma. Doctors told my parents that physical activity could be dangerous. I remember watching my classmates run, play, and laugh — while I stayed on the sidelines with my inhaler and oxygen tank.


But there was something inside me that couldn’t accept those limits.


I wanted to move. I wanted to feel alive.


The Note That Changed My Life

One day, in elementary school, I saw a ballroom dance performance. It was beautiful, elegant, and somehow… healing. I asked my parents to let me try. My mother hesitated, but eventually she wrote a note to the school:

“I take full responsibility for my son’s participation.”


That single note changed the course of my life.


At first, I could hardly breathe after each lesson. But I kept going — step by step, rhythm by rhythm. Within a year, my lungs got stronger. By the time I turned ten, I stopped having asthma attacks altogether. The inhaler became a memory, the oxygen tank a symbol of what I had overcome.


From Survival to Expression

Dance became more than therapy — it became my identity.


As I grew older, I moved from ballroom to modern dance, exploring hip-hop, contemporary, and improvisation. I began performing, teaching, and later judging competitions. I even joined the touring ballet company of Ilya Averbukh, performing across Russia and Europe.


Each performance reminded me that I was living a miracle: a boy who once couldn’t run was now dancing on stages filled with light.


The World as a Stage

Years later, my creative journey took me across continents — from Russia to Bali, and now to the United States.


In 2025, I created a project in Miami called EchoWorld Walk — a series of immersive, silent-disco dance walks that unite people through music and movement.


Each walk gathers eleven people (a symbolic number connected to my birthday, 11/11). Participants wear headphones, follow gentle choreography, and reconnect with their own inner rhythm.


It’s free, open, and filled with meaning. For one hour, strangers move together like one body — immigrants, artists, locals, dreamers — speaking a universal language beyond words.


Inspired by Stories and Gratitude

EchoWorld was inspired by my favorite book series by Max Frei, set in the mysterious City of Echo —a place where reality bends, and everything is connected through invisible threads.


I wanted to bring that feeling into real life: to create spaces where people could feel part of something bigger, even if just for an hour.


For me, movement is more than art — it’s gratitude made visible.


Every step I take is a thank you — to my body for healing, to my mother for believing, to life itself for giving me a second breath.


Closing Thoughts

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When people join EchoWorld Walk, they often tell me afterward that they felt something shift inside — calm, connection, or even tears.


That’s when I realize: dance isn’t about performance. It’s about presence.


And maybe that’s why I was given asthma in the first place — so I could learn to breathe consciously, to listen deeply, and to move through life with purpose.


Today, every dance I lead begins with gratitude —

because once upon a time, I couldn’t even take a single breath.


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