Improvisation as a Way of Life – 07/03/21

Opening Music: ‘Brian Boru’s March’ performed by Marilisa Valtazanou

Opening Words of Welcome: based on words by Erika A. Hewitt (adapted)

As we enter into this time of worship,
let us put away the pressures of the world
that ask us to perform, to put on a brave face,
to pretend we’re on top of things and we’re holding it together,
to make out we’re someone other than who we truly are.

Silence those voices that ask you to be perfect.

This is a space of compassion and hospitality.
You do not have to do anything special to earn
the love and care contained within this community.

You do not have to be braver, smarter, stronger, better
than you are in this moment to belong here, with us.

You only have to bring the gift of your body, no matter how able;
your seeking and attentive mind, no matter how busy;
your tender animal heart, no matter how broken.

Bring your whole self – all that you are,
and all that you love – to this hour.
You are so very welcome here.

So, come, let us worship together.


These opening words, adapted from a piece by Unitarian Universalist minister Erika A. Hewitt, welcome all who have gathered here on Zoom this morning to take part in our Sunday service. Welcome to members of the congregation, to friends and visitors with us ‘live’ today – joining us from far and wide, across the capital, the country, the world –possibly other planets, who knows? – and those may be listening to our podcast, or watching this service on YouTube, at a later date. For those who don’t know me, my name is Jane Blackall and – having been part of this church for going-on 22 years – I’m now the Ministry Coordinator for the congregation, also your ministry-student-on-placement this spring, as part of my final year of training with Unitarian College.

If you are here for the first time today – we’re especially glad to you have you with us – welcome! I hope you find something of what you need – inspiration or comfort perhaps – in this service. Please do hang around afterwards for a chat or drop us an email to introduce yourself if you’d like. And if you’re a regular here – thank you for all that you do to welcome all who come each week. Every single one of us plays a vital part in co-creating this sacred space, this beloved community. So whoever you are, however you are – even if you’ve not quite finished your porridge, you’re still in your pyjamas, or you haven’t managed to get out of bed yet – know you are welcome in this space, just as you are – please do make yourself at home, virtually speaking.

As we always say, feel free to do what you need to do to be comfortable this hour – it’s always lovely to see your faces in the gallery and get a sense of our togetherness as a community – but we know for some it will feel more comfortable to keep your camera mostly-off and that’s fine. Similarly there’ll be opportunities to join in as we go along there’s no compulsion to do so. We hope you’ll say hello at some point – but you can quietly lurk with our blessing.

In this morning’s service we’ll be reflecting on ‘Improvisation as a Way of Life’ – this is kind-of a follow-up to last week’s service – having reflected, last Sunday, on how often our best laid plans go astray – this week we’re considering how to make a virtue out of a necessity: given that life so often dumps in situations we wouldn’t have chosen (but which we have to make the best of) how might we best embrace the spirit of improvisation to help us flourish in these uncertain times?

Chalice Lighting: ‘Our Guiding Principles’ by Jane Blackall

I’ll light our chalice now, as we do each Sunday, and at other times when we gather. This simple ritual connects us with Unitarians and Unitarian Universalists the world over, and reminds us of the historic and progressive religious tradition of which this gathering is part.

May the light of this chalice be a reminder of the
shared values and principles around which we gather:
upholding the inherent worth and dignity of every person;
cherishing all those diverse creatures and habitats
with whom we share this Earth, our home;
seeking human liberation and flourishing;
serving the common good of all.

May this little light, and all it represents, make a home in our hearts;
where it will ever guide us back to our highest aspirations,
and help us be responsive, creative, just, and loving,
in this complex and ever-changing world.

Candles of Joy and Concern:

Each week when we gather together, whether it’s in person at the church in Kensington or here as an online congregation, we share a simple ritual of candles of joy and concern, an opportunity to light a candle and share something that is in our heart with the community. So we’ve got a good few minutes now, for anyone who would like to do so, to light a candle (real or imaginary) and say a few words about what it represents.

When you’re ready to speak, unmute your microphone so we can all hear you, and then re-mute yourself once you’ve finished. If you are going to speak, please be aware of how long you’re speaking for, so that there’s time for others to say something too. Let’s leave a pause between one candle and the next, so we can honour what’s been shared. And don’t worry too much if two people end up speaking at the same time, or there’s a technical hitch of some sort – these things happen on Zoom – please do persevere! At this point it’d be nice, if you can, to switch to gallery view so we can all see everybody.

(candles – thank each person)

I’ve got one more candle here and – as we often do – I’m going to light that candle to represent all those joys and concerns that we might be holding silently in our heart today.

Let’s take a moment now to think of all those joys and concerns we have heard expressed… and let’s hold them – and each other – in compassion and loving-kindness as we move into an extended time of prayer now, based in part on words by UU Alex Jensen, which in turn are based loosely on the Lord’s Prayer. Let’s each do what we need to do to get ourselves into the right state of body and mind for it – maybe shift your position, intentionally adopt a prayerful posture – close your eyes or soften your gaze – whatever helps you get your heart in the right place to be fully present with yourself, each other, and that larger presence which holds us all.

Prayer: incorporating words by Alex Jensen

Spirit of Life, God of All Love, Source Eternal,
in whom we live and move and have our being;
to breathe your sacred name is a blessing.
As we turn our attention to the depths of this life –
the cosmic mystery and wisdom that abides in All-That-Is –
we tune in to your Holy presence within us and amongst us. [pause]

Your world become, your will be done here, on Earth,
inspiring our aspirations to do and be better people.

May we have all that we need to survive, live, and thrive.

Remind us to be gentle; may we love mercy and kindness,
recalling the times when we’ve fallen short ourselves.

Call us also to be firm; may we not be tempted to follow selfish motivations
or reside in our narrow privileges, unexamined and uninterrogated;
move us to counter and overcome injustice in ourselves, our lives, and institutions.

For yours is the Beloved Community, the fire of commitment in our hearts,
and the spirit of generosity and abundance, now and always. (pause)

Let us take a few moments now to look back over the past week, sit quietly for a while, and inwardly give thanks for those joys and pleasures we have felt along the way:

moments of love, friendship and camaraderie, experiences of wonder and delight; reassurance and relief , bursts of playfulness, spontaneity and generosity, feelings of achievement, creativity, and flow, all those times when we felt most alive and awake. (pause – about 30s)

Let us also take some time to ask for the consolation, forgiveness, and guidance we may need, as we acknowledge our sorrows and regrets:

times of loss, pain, anger, and fear, periods of uncertainty and anxious waiting, realisation of our own weaknesses, mistakes and failings, awareness of missed opportunities, those things left unsaid or undone, those moments when we struggled and felt like a mess. (pause – about 30s)

Expanding our circle of concern, let us bring to mind those people,
places and situations that are in need of prayer right now:

  • maybe friends or loved ones, those closest to our heart.
  • maybe those we find difficult, or where there’s a conflict going on.
  • maybe those we don’t know so well, or who we’ve heard about in the news.

And let us take a few moments now to hold the in the light of love. (pause – about 30s)

God of all love, we offer up our joys and concerns,
our hopes and fears, our beauty and brokenness,
and call on you for insight, healing, and renewal.

As we look forward now to the coming week,
help us to live well each day and be our best selves;
using our unique gifts in the service of love, justice and peace. Amen.

Hymn: ‘Here We Have Gathered’ (Unitarian Music Society)

If you were here last week you’ll know that, in response to popular demand, we’re currently experimenting with having two hymns in our services. Our first hymn today speaks of the gifts of joining together in community, sharing our stories and struggles, and supporting each other as best we can along the way. It’s called ‘Here We Have Gathered’ and it’s sung for us by the Unitarian Music Society. The words will appear on screen shortly so that you can sing along – or you might prefer just to listen – we’ll do our best to make sure you’re all muted so if you do sing along nobody except your housemates (and maybe neighbours, if you sing up) will hear you.

Here we have gathered, gathered side by side;
circle of kinship, come and step inside!
May all who seek here find a kindly word;
may all who speak here feel they have been heard.
Sing now together this, our hearts’ own song.

Here we have gathered, called to celebrate
days of our lifetime, matters small and great:
we of all ages, women, children, men,
infants and sages, sharing what we can.
Sing now together this, our hearts’ own song.

Life has its battles, sorrows, and regret:
but in the shadows, let us not forget:
we who now gather know each other’s pain;
kindness can heal us: as we give, we gain.
Sing now in friendship this, our hearts’ own song.

Reading: ‘Leftovers’ by Gordon McKeeman (read by Sonya)

I sometimes enjoy cooking. I’ve discovered that one of the greatest of culinary skills is making new creations out of leftovers. It takes imagination. It takes a little skill with spices, herbs, and sauces. The achievement of a satisfying and palatable meal from leftovers can be a model of how one might conduct one’s own life in a creative way.

The first thing you need to do is to open the refrigerator door. You’ll see an assortment of things: containers, jars, bags, boxes, and things wrapped in foil, waxed paper, or plastic.

Now I invite you to open a different door, the door of your past. What you find there will be leftovers, too. You will probably find your parents’ voices, their admonitions, perhaps their praise, maybe their blame, their warnings, some expression of their love, their anxiety. You may find traces of their uncertainties, problems, and hopes.

You will rediscover some decisions that you have made without thorough understanding of the consequences: about leaving home or not leaving; about when you decided to be married or not to be, or both, and to whom. You will probably remember some of the jobs you took, some of the jobs you wanted but didn’t get, and some of the ones you thought about and turned down. You will also find some circumstances, accidents, diseases, and the times you were born into and lived through. You will find your family and some of its ways, its customs, the habits that were funny or odd and are somehow deeply ingrained and make other ways seem even odder than your own. You will find people who touched your life in a thousand unaccounted and unexpected ways, who were there at special moments and changed you or made you a gift: the gift of a smooth stone, a happy day, or an unforgettable experience. And there will be all the ruins, sorrows, guilts, regrets, along with the fears and the hopes, dreams and doubts, forgivings and forbiddings. Don’t we have crowded refrigerators! Every one of us, such a collection of leftovers.

In making a life, we’re all cooking with leftovers from childhood, even infancy. The longer we’re at it, the more leftovers there are. Of course, people are always looking for the “big answer”… and there is one big answer to cooking with leftovers. You open the door, and you are faced with the problem, “What can I make of it?”

I take that to be the secret ingredient for dealing with leftovers. A scriptural version is “the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” You might consider attaching it to the refrigerator door – either the internal one or the external one – since it’s a description that fits both. What is that secret ingredient? It is, of course, faith. “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

Welcome to the world where we all cook using leftovers – some of us with imagination, some with creativity, some merely resenting the task, some thinking there is no possibility in it. Add the secret ingredient. Something will come of it that will be at least edible… probably even quite palatable.

Meditation: ‘A Calm, Clear Place’ by Jezibell Anat

Thanks Sonya for our reading today. We’ve come now to a time of meditation. You might like to have a wiggle and get as comfortable as you can in your chair (if you’re in a chair!) – put your feet flat on the floor to help ground and steady yourself – maybe close your eyes.

There’ll be just a few words by Jezibell Anat to gently invite us into meditation. These words will take us into a good few minutes of shared stillness, during which we’ll put our chalice-cam up on screen, in case you find it restful to watch the moving flame. And for our meditation music we have a gorgeous song, ‘One Voice’, from Marilisa Valtazanou.

As ever, these words, and images, and music are just an offering – not an obligation – you are free to think your own thoughts, and meditate in your own way.

Let us enter into a calm, clear place; a place
where we can relinquish our inner clutter
and relax from busyness into being.

Let us settle into that calm, clear place
where the earth supports our bodies
and the community lifts our spirits;
where we can breathe in peace
and centre ourselves in love.

Let us welcome our calm, clear place
where our hearts can safely open
and our thoughts can expand
beyond the limits of convention
out into the creative flow of the infinite.

Silence: 3 minutes silence accompanied by chalice video

Musical Interlude: ‘One Voice’ performed by Marilisa Valtazanou (2.23)

Reading: ‘Tell them about the Dream’ by Stephen Nachmanovitch

To lead into my reflection this morning I want to share another short reading with you. It comes from a book called ‘The Art of Is: Improvising as a Way of Life’ by Stephen Nachmanovitch [hold up the book] which in large part inspired this week’s choice of service theme. The reading is titled: ‘Tell them about the Dream’:

On August 28th 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial, during the climax of the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, the great gospel singer Mahalia Jackson was sitting on the platform near her friend Martin Luther King. Dr King had begun reading his prepared address. Seven paragraphs into the speech, Jackson broke in and shouted, ‘Tell them about the dream, Martin! Tell them about the dream!’

King pushed aside his notes and began improvising.

His written text did not mention dreams. As he looked up at the crowd and rolled into the rhythmic majesty of ‘I Have a Dream,’ Dr King was riffing on part of an earlier speech he had given at Cobo Hall in Detroit but that he felt had not worked very well; he was riffing on bits from the Bible, from Shakespeare, from Lincoln, from the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence. The ghost of Gandhi was never far. Though we can identify the deep roots of King’s words, the innumerable strands and influences had been collectively digested, absorbed, and integrated. The interbeing of many is expressed in the voice of each of us. We recognise King’s courage and brilliance, but he was not some solitary genius spinning ‘creativity’ out of whole cloth. For there are no such geniuses. This is what it is to be human: to learn and assimilate the patterns of culture, community, and environment, both conscious and unconscious, and alter them as needed, make them ours, such that the voice spontaneously emerging is our voice, interdependent with the human world in which we live. Thus we breathe life into art and art into life.

Improvising means coming prepared, but not being attached to the preparation. Everything flows into the creative act in progress. Come prepared, but be willing to accept interruptions and invitations. Trust that the product of your preparation is not your papers and plans, but yourself. Know that no solo is solo: even one of the greatest speeches of all time was helped into existence by a good friend’s blurted reminder.

Sermon: ‘Improvisation as a Way of Life’ by Jane Blackall

In last week’s service, Jeannene and I considered the question: ‘To Plan or Not to Plan?’ In the light of this past year – and it is almost exactly a year; I realise it was 8th March 2020 when I last preached in the church building in Kensington – in the light of all the disruption and uncertainty of the last 12 months we were asking: ‘is there any point in planning anything anyway, when our plans are liable to get thwarted, or just torn up and thrown out the window?’ And – I hope this very brief summary of your sermon sounds about right, Jeannene! – we concluded that plans are still very much worth making as they can help us to live more intentionally, to act out of our principles and values, rather than following the crowd; plans can give us a sense of agency, rather than feeling we’re drifting through our days, at the mercy of chance; and plans can keep our spirits up, by giving us things to look forward to, hopes on the horizon. At the same time we can (and we must) be clear-eyed and realistic about the possibility – perhaps the likelihood – that our grand plans won’t entirely survive contact with reality. So it helps if we can hold our plans lightly, with a certain openness-of-mind-and-heart, and be ready to respond and adapt to whatever unexpected curveball life might throw at us next. Which brings us to this morning’s theme: Improvisation as a Way of Life.

Now, I must confess: I’m the last person who should be talking to you about improvisation. The idea of being spontaneous, speaking off-the-cuff, or – God forbid! – doing a role-play has struck terror into my heart for most of my life. I like to have a script, or a plan, and stick to it. I expect that will always be my preference, and I suspect I’m not alone, though I’m sure there are plenty of free-spirits amongst us this morning too, who tend to lean more the other way. So, if you’re anything like me, you might need a bit of convincing about the idea of embracing improvisation. But, the thing is, whether you – or I – would choose to improvise for fun, or not – well, over the course of our lives the need to improvise occasionally is pretty much unavoidable. We’re repeatedly going to find ourselves in situations where the unexpected happens and we need to respond creatively to the new reality we suddenly find ourselves in.

When you hear the word ‘improvisation’, I wonder what first comes to mind? Comedy, perhaps? Certainly I remember watching the Channel 4 improv panel show ‘Whose Line is it Anyway?’ as a teenager back in the nineties and going to see the Comedy Store Players a few times. I know we’ve got a number of specialists in various forms of improvisation amongst us – dear Veronica is a master practitioner of Playback Theatre – as many of you have witnessed first-hand. And our own Jenny is passionate about the form of dance known as contact improvisation. You might think of improvisation in music, especially jazz – I don’t know if we’ve got any jazz musicians lurking in the congregation – though I know we’ve got some jazz enthusiasts. Or, on a slightly different tack, improvisation in the kitchen – I only just found out there’s been a revival of ‘Ready Steady Cook’ on TV – that show where celebrity chefs are presented with a carrier bag of random ingredients by contestants and have to rustle up something edible out of it in just twenty minutes (with the help of a reasonably well-stocked store-cupboard of basics).

So what unites all these different forms of improvisation? In her recent book, ‘Improv Your Life – An Improviser’s Guide to Embracing Whatever Life Throws at You’, Pippa Evans writes this: ‘Improvisation is a mystery to many people because it is so tied up in its identity as a comedy show, rather than a skill in and of itself. So I would like to use the following definition of improvisation: Improvisation is the art of using what is available to you in the moment. This definition works for me because the strongest improvisers are the ones who have unlimited access to everything they possess. ‘What is available to you’ means the people around you, the props on the table, and the treasure trove that is yourself. Your thoughts, your words, your responses, your presence in the moment. The best improvisers are not loud show-offs (not all of them, anyway) – they are curious and interested in the world around them. They want to expand their general knowledge, to be equipped for every scenario.’

That’s what I mean by ‘Improvisation as a Way of Life’: ‘the art of using what is available to you in the moment’. Think back to that piece that Sonya read for us earlier on, by Gordon McKeeman, about ‘Leftovers’. He uses that metaphor – of improvising something more-or-less edible out of the random bits and pieces we happen to have left in our fridge – to get us thinking more deeply about the process of improvising a life that is liveable out of the random bits and pieces – material, psychological, or spiritual – we have accumulated over the course of our lives so far. Given who you are, the resources you have at your disposal, and the situation you find yourself in, however sub-optimal, the way of the improviser is to ask, in the moment: ‘what can I make of it?’

Paradoxically, it actually takes a fair bit of preparation, in order to improvise skilfully and well. Preparation can increase ‘what is available to you in the moment’, enhance your metaphorical store-cupboard, by stocking you up with resources to draw on. But as Stephen Nachmanovitch succinctly put it: ‘Improvising means coming prepared, but not being attached to the preparation.’

The spontaneous delivery of ‘I Have a Dream’ by Martin Luther King illustrates perfectly how – despite appearances – the very best improvisation doesn’t just conjure brilliance out of thin air. It takes a huge amount of groundwork. Dr King had given many speeches before that day, none of which had seemed to work so well, but he had learned a lot through all that experience. And he was thoroughly steeped in so many crucial influences: the Bible, and Shakespeare, political pioneers and justice activists, all of which he had ‘digested, absorbed, and integrated’. Dr King ‘used what was available to him in the moment’: in his case a huge wealth of inner riches, which he drew on, riffed on, and remixed in real-time, in order to articulate his powerful vision. We can learn from his example when preparing ourselves to improvise in daily life. All the wisdom we are exposed to, that we can digest, absorb, and integrate, becomes part of our ‘treasure trove’. It shapes our way of seeing and responding to the world in each moment. Again, as Nachmanovitch puts it, ‘trust that the product of your preparation is not your papers and plans, but yourself.’

Many forms of improvisation – certainly in music, dance, theatre, and comedy – involve two or more people playing off each other – which requires some ‘tuning in’, sensitivity of perception, to allow responsive, constructive collaboration in the moment. This often involves some sort of framework or ‘rules of engagement’ to structure the interaction; it’s rarely a complete free-for-all. Musicians might structure their improvisation by basing it on certain scales. Dancers – I know this much from my own experience of ballroom dancing – social dancers will have a repertoire of basic steps that they can join together in different combinations in response to the music. And we practice our scales or moves so they come more easily to us and are ‘available in the moment’. Again, the same principles might come in useful when thinking about improvisation in daily life,
as we’re never truly living in isolation, and will face constraints and opportunities as a result. We’re part of an interdependent web with every other being in the universe, so the dance-that-is-our-life will always involve other people…. which inevitably complicates matters!

And perhaps the final thing to mention about improvisation is that it’s guided by some sort of vision of what it is we might hope to create – whether it’s an audience rolling with laughter, a beautiful and flowing movement across the dancefloor, a delicious curry – or maybe even a speech that will change hearts and minds and ‘bend the moral arc of the universe towards justice’ (perhaps the rest of us won’t have quite the impact that Martin Luther King did but all of our creative acts, however humble, play their part in nudging the universe in one direction or another). So when it comes to Improvising as a Way of Life – well, what is it that we hope to create? What are the values and principles that guide us and shape our way of being in the world? What are the aspirations that we hold before us when we look at our life and ask ‘what can I make of it?’

In a way, coming to church each week is a bit like practising our scales, or our steps, in preparation for the everyday improvisation that is our life. Here we remind ourselves, over and over, of our shared principles, internalising them, so that they become habits of mind and heart, so that they are ‘available in the moment’ – ready so that, when we’re confronted by life’s latest plot twist, we stand a better chance of spontaneously responding in a way that aligns with our highest values. And each time we meet, I hope, we each tuck a little bit more wisdom into our store-cupboards, and build up our resources and our inner strength for whatever it is we might have to deal with next.

So I hope to see you back here next week – same time, same place, eh? – let’s keep on practising together as best we can. And, in so doing, let’s support each other in responding ever more creatively to this precious life. May it be so, for the greater good of all. Amen.

Hymn: ‘Let it Be a Dance’ (Unitarian Music Society)

Time for us to sing once again – our second hymn is a jaunty one – ‘Let it be a Dance’. The words will appear on screen shortly and you can sing along with the Unitarian Music Society once again. Feel free to listen, of course, if you’d rather – but if you fancy a dance – well, it’d be rude not to!

Let it be a dance we do. May I have this dance with you?
Through the good times and the bad times, too, let it be a dance.

Let a dancing song be heard.
Play the music, say the words,
and fill the sky with sailing birds.
Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance.
Learn to follow, learn to lead,
feel the rhythm, fill the need
to reap the harvest, plant the seed. Let it be a dance.

Let it be a dance we do. May I have this dance with you?
Through the good times and the bad times, too, let it be a dance.

Everybody turn and spin,
let your body learn to bend,
and, like a willow in the wind,
let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance.
A child is born, the old must die;
a time for joy, a time to cry.
Take it as it passes by. Let it be a dance.

Let it be a dance we do. May I have this dance with you?
Through the good times and the bad times, too, let it be a dance.

Morning star comes out at night,
without the dark there is no light.
If nothing’s wrong, then nothing’s right.
Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance. Let it be a dance.
Let the sun shine, let it rain;
share the laughter, bear the pain,
and round and round we go again. Let it be a dance.


Thanks to Jeannene for hosting, Sonya for our reading, and Marlisa for the lovely music today. As ever there are a number of opportunities to connect congregationally in the week ahead: Coffee morning 10.30 on Tuesday – always lively conversation – newcomers always welcome. Heart & Soul, our contemplative spiritual gathering – on ‘Communication’ – few spaces tonight (Friday is already fully booked). Even if you’ve not been before it’s never too late to start. Don’t forget we’ll have virtual coffee-time afterwards, to chat in small groups, if you’d like. And if you can bear it we like to take a group photo after the closing music so stick around. We’ll be back next week on Zoom at 10am. It’s fine to share the zoom link with trusted others. If you’re new please do get in touch to introduce yourself – drop us an email – or stay for a chat.

We’re planning to start producing a Creative Congregational Journal – the deadline for the first edition is just a fortnight away, on 19th March, and the theme is ‘Home’ – I admit I’ve not been overwhelmed with contributions so far so if you’re working on something please do let me know. Anyone even remotely connected to the congregation is invited to get in touch with any
submissions you might have on the theme: articles, meditations, poems, art, photos. If you’ve got half-an-idea and want to run it past me please do feel free to get in touch (you can reach me via the email we use to send out the Zoom link so I know you’ve got it).

I also want to put a plug in for the next West London GreenSpirit event which is a Spring Equinox retreat taking place on Zoom on the 20th March from 2-5pm – details are in the weekly email – if you hang around after the service you might be able to catch David for more information about it.

We’ve just got our closing words now and a song from Marilisa to finish our service today. So I invite you to select gallery view at this point, if you can, so we can all see each other for the benediction and get a sense of our community-and-connectedness as we close.

Benediction: based on words by Charles A. Howe

And so our gathering ends; may we go forth
thankful for the life that sustains and renews us,
receptive to the grace that surrounds and surprises us,
and attentive to the gifts and possibilities that surround us along the way. Amen.

Closing Music: ‘Take Its Own Time’ performed by Marilisa Valtazanou (3.28)

Jane Blackall

7th March 2021