Near the end, the homosexual language teacher confides (and laments) to his partner a meaningful realisation, that a movement can be so revealing. How sad that some of us will not be around long enough to speak our bodies. He is reassured, however, that a movement can be replicated. So do words, and so do manners, and so do politics. Folk, education, houses, books. All that is linguistics.
Now, what about feelings? They pertain necessarily to the heart (that moving muscle), and the shape it takes when poured through our eyes. There's no syntax governing them, and we all know a look cannot be replicated.
