Everything happens inside his rave. Being does not speak. The room is in the energy of being.
As he passes, conversations cling to him. Wealth in one corner, betrayal in another, a ridiculous secret beneath the stairs, an endless name under the chandelier. The sentences are never fully heard; they break off, stretch like a saxophone, thin out like a piano. He does not answer. He smiles, leaves the glass, and withdraws.more