I was with a group of people in a science lab who were intent on making something that seemed like an arts-and-crafts project. I was more interested in flinging Mardi Gras beads around and dancing. One tall man appeared to feel the same way, but he couldn’t quite make his way to me.

A musician was half sitting, half lying on the floor, his face stretched and mask-like as though he’d been burned. The only song I could hear was “Along Comes Mary,” which never stopped playing.

The tall man, the musician, and I knew something the others didn’t and were right to focus on the dance. I could feel it.