#4&5#4 My lungs heave out a cloud of shivery breath; it hangs briefly in the air then clouds my glasses. I mutter a gentle curse but the chill harpoons a caried tooth. I slam my jaw shut and take the beating for a few seconds, then snort some air in through my shuddering nostrils and think to myself, I might put on another bar of the electric fire.
#5 At about 1am I snapped out of my psychedelic blur. A moment ago I’d been lost and happy in the pulsating turquoise room, heart-held by the pounding rhythms, bedazzled and giddied by mirror balls. The lingering vanilla and primeval female hormones had freed me to touch and be touched. I looked across the smiling sea of faces – some choppy, gurning; some pacific and eyes closed. 100 or so dancers lost in a shared feeling, sympathetic hand gestures and embracing with a warm glowing energy. I knew that somewhere beneath those dancing, slithering, stomping feet were my glasses.