The music was pulsating and loud, the kind of music that and captures and makes sensations. There was something elemental about the swaying bodies, people moving to and fro, dark rooms with black-lights strewn about making everyone glow in the dark.
There were several swirls of light bouncing off masks and brightly colored clothes, purples and greens and reds.
We all wore beads that were handed out at the door. We all had a little to drink. A lovely tall woman walked up to talk to me, wearing a lace dress and flipping her pretty curly hair. We spoke, shared stories, exchanged ideas.
The music called me off once or twice and I spun around with strangers, the boys and girls moving and dancing in the strange lights. Later in the smoking room, I found someone smoking cloves and indulged over conversations with perfumed cigarettes. There was something comfortable about the vibe, though it was also charged.
I spied the pretty girls and they spied me back. We exchanged pleasantries about dresses and masks. We danced together.
A frenzy that seemed to continue without crescendo, just riding waves of amusement, of meeting, ritual dancing and interacting.
It was lovely.
The colors are what I remember most, the brightly swirling colors. The winter had been too grey.