(Many years ago….)
Went to a party last night. A gloriously crazed one just down the street with wild music spun, drunken Germans spinning, inadvertently cracked skulls, blood, and a rather wanton little thing from Uzbekistan. She passed me a joint. I had never smoked dope with an Uzbek before. I took a hit, my head spun, and I laughed. She laughed. She said I was a very big man. I said she was a very pretty lady. We laughed again. Drank bubbly and talked about the weather. Inside the music roared and the hostess was bleeding all over everything. Out here was a night breeze and the sound of our laughter. Uzbeks are just like regular people, only drunker and with killer shoes.