It's funny how natural it feels to be flipping through records on a lazy Sunday afternoon. It's been ages since I have done this, but there's some sort of muscle memory that my body has when I walk into a record store. I stand in front of the first bin, my hips cock to the right, I bend my left knee and stand in a modified tree pose with the bottom of my left foot resting against the inside of my right calf. My right hand flips through the records, one by one while the left hand holds stack in place. My mouth curves into a smile while my mind enters a blissed-out state of nostalgia. I call it vinylasana. It's a full-body experience.