The worst feeling was poor. Because in Haiti, so many people are poor, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. And there’s always a way to degaje, to get by, even when you have nothing. But...

The music is happy; the laughter is happy. Everything feels ecstatic and desperate. Blurrily, I think of sex, and I think of death. I realize: Every moment of joyous celebration contains the seed of death.