ABSTRACT
I sit on the balcony of a twelfth-floor apartment on Turtle Creek Drive in Dallas, a few days after the summer solstice. At nearly nine the sky is far from dark; it makes me think of the Magritte painting "Empire of Light" Several of us are out here passing around a pipe of hashish, admiring the view of Revershon Park, listening to a tape deck of Gato Barbieri. Others are inside, dancing with futuristic abandon. Two women sit staring into each other's eyes, as they have been doing these past twenty minutes. The women, Betty and Sue, both look to be in their thirties, and they both live in this apartment So do Doug, who is close to fifty, and his nephew Jeff, who Is sixteen. All four have their own rooms. Doug is sort of involved with Betty, but not too much. He is also sort of involved with five or six other women in other informal Arica households around the country; Betty is sort of involved with a couple of other Arica men.
