ABSTRACT
It was impossible to sleep that night. There, in the very room, a few paces away, maybe closer, lay Damiana, wheezing. Her lungs sounded like old bellows. And to make it worse, that old character Mr. Sterns had wasted three days stumbling drunkenly from here to there, from one bank of the river to the other, getting more and more sucked into the mesmerizing beat. Nothing but the music mattered to him when he heard an infectious song; his feet just started right up dancing.
