When we reach a pause in the crowd, a place where we have just enough room to dance, she spins on her foot to face me. I grab her by the waist as her arms fall to my shoulders. She speaks, but I can’t hear her over the chorus of techno beats. And I’ve never been good at reading lips. But she doesn’t have to say anything. We are so explicitly connected that I’m in full understanding of what she’s feeling just by looking into her eyes. Right now, she feels ecstasy. She feels like this is the one place in her world where she isn’t running anymore. Almost like she’s standing perfectly still. When you factor in the way the world turns, spinning at an impossible to comprehend speed, it’s not such a stretch of the imagination to believe that the reason she stands still is that she moves the way everyone else does. It’s simple. Here, amongst the masses of people, she’s not alone because she’s surrounded by people just like her. Misfits. Sweat begins to trickle down the length of her face, and for the first time, I take notice of the cruel heat ripping me apart from the inside.
What do You think about Carnival Nights: Carnival #2?
