A Dance

In Memoriam Victims of the Paris Massacre November 13,2015 Oh, the nights in Paris! We have been temporary Parisians for two weeks, and every hour our delight is keener. We might expect to be jaded, weary of nocturnal pleasures, ready to sink into complacency and complaint. But no exhaustion of body and soul assails us. We are like pilgrims refreshed after reaching their goal, celebrating a festival of expectations, in a city where the clocks run backwards giving us more time than we consume. Just yesterday we bonded with strangers, all of us neighbors of the autumn night which welcomed us, as if honey spilled out of the moon's interior and fell to earth along with its pale blue light to sweeten everything it touched, flowing over us, making even the saddest person among us shine with simple pleasure. After the concert, we shuffled toward the exit, pressed body to body, all of us smiling because some inner delight in each of us stretched forth, blending together in the warmth of the moment. When we hit the street, and the cold air slapped our cheeks, we suddenly joined hands, and began to dance in a long line of revelers, twisting and swaying, singing snatches of songs, or just shouting our joy to the moon. Pedestrians with other goals to reach joined our ranks, all of us laughing at the sheer nonsense of all this frivolity. We became for that moment what we are meant to be - one body becoming one soul. And then almost as quickly as it began, the dance came to its end, as people hugged and separated. And we dispersed, under the honeyed light of the moon.