Ah, the Greek chorus, those voices that rose in rhythm from the stage, moving in circles, turning, swaying, their steps a pulse to the tale. In ancient amphitheatres, the chorus would not simply chant; they would glide across the stone, their arms a mirror of the drama unfolding. Imagine, for instance, the play *Alcestis*—the chorus would start in a slow, solemn procession, their feet tapping a solemn beat, echoing the sorrow of the heroine. Then, as the plot thickened, they might break into a faster, almost ecstatic dance, their bodies twisting in unison to mirror the triumph of hope. In every movement, the chorus narrated the story, the dance amplified emotion, and the audience found themselves pulled into a living tapestry of sound and motion. The ancient Greeks truly mastered the art of storytelling by giving it a body to breathe, a rhythm to feel, and a dance to remember.