What happens to dance when the dancer is busy writing?

A comment on application writing 

What happens to dance when the dancer is busy writing? 

When the dancer is busy writing, there is no dance happening. There is no body carving through a three-dimensional space. When the dancer is busy writing there is no thinking in movement, no flexing of muscles, no collapses, no falls, no catches. There are no lines marked in mid-air and no mind-body connection. There is no blood flowing with rushed oxygen to firing nerves. There are no difficult or virtuosic actions happening, there are no random moves that will birth new ones and no accidental magic. There is no panting and no sweat, the air is still. When the dancer is busy writing no one is playing with gravity.
No warmth spreading, no surfaces touching. When the dancer is busy writing there is no up and down in spiral form, no making friends with the floor or any pressing of any kind. 

When the dancer is writing her body is paused in a still posture.

Her position hovers in silence while her mind is active. She is imagining. When the dancer is busy writing there is dance in her head, there are imagined movements, structures, and meetings. There is a wish for a dynamic, catch and decent. There are concepts forming and connections made. But there is no dancing happening.

When they finally meet again, lagging from the lack of recognition, from imagined to real. They cut through the cobwebs of their distance. The dancer and the dance together again and slowly they get back in shape, they communicate and shape the inside and the outside. But it’s hard, time and time again. It slows the dance and it slows the dancer.
Why always such a long break?  I was busy writing, says the dancer to the dance, so that we could meet again.