Elizabeth said that once she wrote an international best-seller, she was fucked. Really fucked, she said, into microphone, into the crowd, their faces wide open and blank and waiting,...

She told them though that in East Africa when the men dance well the onlookers chant Allah Allah and that's how it is to be creative, to let God come through. But what of the next morning? When the dancer wakes, and his body aches, and he's getting a little fat, a little older? How will he feel when Allah leaves him?

Elizabeth said what she wants most of all is to tell Allah, Hey, I'm working hard, come visit me today. She wants Allah to do His part.

And everyone claps, a sound like thunder they make with their hands.

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