Ten people at most, and no one watching.

Four classes, one room, and the same faces leading them every week.

A man sitting cross-legged on a mat in a sunlit room, working a massage gun along his forearm

9

sessions a week

Seven days,
drawn to scale.

Every block starts where the class starts and is as wide as it lasts. Pick how today feels and the week answers.

Four classes, and no wrong first one.

They differ in three ways only: how long they are, how much you move, and how much you have to say. Side by side, so you can pick one and stop reading.

Minute by minute, told honestly.

What it is, what its time holds, and who will be in the room with you.

One room, on purpose.

Everything happens in the same place, so by your second visit you already know where the mats are and which corner is yours.

A woman balancing on one leg on a green mat, hands together above her head, before a pale curtain

10

mats

The room holds ten. When ten are booked, the class is full — we do not squeeze in an eleventh.

A woman holding a rolled mat in a studio full of plants, looking at the camera

0

mirrors

Nothing in the room shows you yourself. That was the first decision, before the paint.

“The first thing people say is that it is quiet. The second is that they did not expect to like that.”

Ayo Bello

Four leads, the same ones every week.

Each class belongs to one person. If they are away the class is cancelled rather than handed to a stranger.

Pay once, or not at all yet.

The first class is on the house if you book it on an intro call. After that, four ways to pay — none of them a contract.

A woman lying down with her eyes closed, seen past a blur of green

Still not sure?

Fifteen minutes on the phone with someone from the team. No forms, and no pressure to book anything after.

Asked often, answered plainly.

No. Every class assumes it is someone’s first, every week — the lead says the smaller version of each movement out loud as it comes.

Nothing. Mats, blocks and blankets are here. Wear what you can move in; there is a changing room and a shower.

Booking holds you a place, but you can turn up. Ten people at most, so on a busy week a place is worth holding.

Stop. Sit, lie down, or leave — you do not owe anyone an explanation, and nobody will follow you out.

Often yes, and the lead will adapt it with you. Tell us before the class starts rather than during, so we can plan it properly.

Yes. Each class belongs to one person, and if they are away the class is cancelled rather than handed to a stranger.

Three of the four run live online as well as in the room — breathwork, mindfulness and sleep reset. Same lead, same hour, live rather than recorded, and your camera can stay off the whole time. Restorative movement needs our props, so it is in the room only.

Ten is ten, and we do not squeeze in an eleventh. Put your name on the list and you will hear within the hour if someone drops out; nothing is charged for a place you did not get.

Come anyway. The door is on the latch for the first fifteen minutes and there is a mat at the back kept for exactly this.

Sixteen for classes. Younger than that, the teen therapy hours are the better door, and the intro call can point you at them.

A woman in sage green reaching one arm up past two palms into a clear blue sky

Come once,
and decide after.

Fifteen minutes on the phone first if you would rather. No forms, no pressure, and no wrong way to start.