A dream of the Indian dancers, a movement of ecstasy, a spinning of dance.
We are in a courtyard, within an intricate pavilion... there is a crescent moon. heat. light rain and bats searching below the stars in the sky. All then becomes quiet, all but the sound of running water from its fall. The music begins languid, like I. The musicians build their rhythm, and with eyes closed they smile, lost in the music. The women and colour dance before us, and everything is so bright and alive.
I hold my breath, lost in the fabric of a dreamworld.