Siberia's little soiree was, in a word, swelegant. Had I known it was a costume party I too would have come as someone fabulously rich, beautiful and young beyond my years.
At one point I found myself talking to an exquisite corpse in a dinner jacket. She had the timeless beauty of a classic automobile that's been restored by replacing each and every part with a brand new replica of the original. When she asked me, "What is it you do?", I told her I keep a journal. She paused for half a beat, waiting for the punch line. When it didn't come she said, "I see." Those two words eloquently conveyed that she now knew everything she would ever need to know about me and she turned her fleeting attention elsewhere.