The floor is sticky with stuff you can only hope is beer and everyone is standing in front of their seat, talking with friends or strangers and jiggling up and down to the music in a sort of awkward pseudo-dance.
In an awkward distance of just a few feet apart, the two Maison Gerards form a doubling that echoes Ovid’s story of Narcissus, which makes them utterly unforgettable, and even fascinating, to a curious stranger.
A shadowed mass stumbled out of the reeds. A skunk, pawing at nothing in particular, winced at the sun and shook unsteadily under its own weight. Rocco, always playful, nosed the creature while dancing around the dazed animal.
When an audience is presented with narratives in which women acknowledge their individuality over their motherhood, or even choose not to have children, it becomes difficult to separate a protagonist’s character flaws from their attempt at achieving a greater happiness.