Hathi Room

Right behind the first quickstep dancer to center line, each united by their shared tale of strife. The handbag peddler who once was. In lock with the honored botanist, who bore fruits of a thousand trials. The sheikh’s revered carpenter, who fled a misstep – spinning and skipping clockwise in rhythmic steps. Fingers laced with the daughter of the painter, who once aspired to display in French galleries. Under the glow of the incandescent light, they danced and they danced to keep the image alive. Slow-quick-quick, slow-quick-quick, slow… But as the chandelier dimmed, enveloping the dancers in the darkness of night. The peddler, the botanist, the sheikh, the daughter. They were drawn together acknowledging there was no light.