Oh Yeah

Now I know what I should have written about. No pretensions to understanding cultures or creating art, just this instant from last Monday:

The photos (last post) showed twin truncated pyramids: Tahoma's snowclad white and the hat richly reddened. But a while later, dancing done and guests seated around a large ring of tables, servers circling through, Plateau style, past water and salmon but maybe not yet to buffalo, three drummers from Chief Joseph's band. Their drums are not small, but neither are they adorned. Their buttery hides lit with the final sunrays of the day, threaded into the hall through the open door which pours forth dish after dish. Server's circuited round once more and picking up the next course, swooping round to another gyre, another animal and another plant feeding itself to the assembled.

The heartly beat, the drum-hides sunned, the salmon scent: that moment would last whether I wrote it or not.