Fever and Yellow Lights

Magnitude and solitude and cramped quarters a mile below.

A lonely gramophone pierced through the darkness and illuminated the dance. Anything could surely ease the shock of malaria and malice from some long lost mania imported on a fruit crate that danced all the way across the seven seas.

Sea salt and unskilled mules walking on gravel mixed with broken goblets. Anything you want so long as you never make a second trip to that lumpy buffet of so many mysterious platters.

Sister Ally is on the Silver Chief somewhere east of Winslow, snug in her berth with no thoughts of home or the idle menfolk she so gladly abandoned for a one way ticket west where she then planned to take the first ship she found upon arrival.