Leila Lois Ana stretches her legs on the bamboo lounger, listening to cold drops of water and sharp splashes reverb off the tiles as people enter the plunge pool. She lies in a liminal state, between hot and cold, a gush of blood pulsing like icy fire along her legs into her toes, which ache from pointe work. Nightly, after curtain call, she ascends the staircase to the last sauna session of the day, with rising anticipation. The orchestra of sensation in her body fills the void— She misses being held.  She is lifted and embraced daily by her male…