ABSTRACT
It was a bitterly cold Christmas Eve. On the London railway terminus of St Marylebone, people were hurrying home laden with shopping, presents and expectation. People stared at the destination boards and waited for the announcement of their trains. From the tannoy system the words of the station master were suddenly replaced by a familiar tune. The strains of Johann Strauss’s ‘Blue Danube Waltz’ wafted across the station concourse. From the crowd, figures appeared, similar to yet strangely different from the hundreds of travellers around them. Each had a suitcase in their hand. As the music swelled, these unusual travellers found their lips responding to the sounds in the air. Their destinations began to be dictated by the movements of their lips, pulling them strongly around the station. The travellers began to waltz with each other, joined not by their arms but by a magnetic quality in their lips. The crowds around them withdrew to watch the dance that began to form in front of them. No sooner had the music finished than the travellers were absorbed back into the crowd that filled the void once more. A few minutes of magic had distracted the commuters as they went off for their Christmas celebrations around the country.
