No comments were made after the party. The only sounds uttered except our names were, “uuogh” and “fthoah”. The overall ambiance was mysterious. It was foreboding and confrontational. “The Germans killed all the antelope,” one partygoer asserted later. A week later, in a chatty mood, over a mint julep at an Serbian deli near her apartment in the suburbs, Anne said, “The drum was banging, slow, and punch-drunk.
running the whole length of the horizon...