We blessed his hair with salted wood and sweet smoke, saying goodbye and telling our fortunes with drum bones and then breaking them. We led him to the bride. They walked up together. She took a breath, eyes closed with white curtains, and became a butterfly. She unfolded her wings on the chest of the groom and said, "forever". They danced and the band rose and entered their harmony.

My friends began to beat the drums. Eyes closed, under hanging lanterns we sprawled into dance, the lights began to shine brightly in my eyes and then...

The wedding party became delirious, imbibed and swimming in grapes, jumping out of their clothes with wild glee and making themselves into torches; they made love to each other on the floor and in the elevators. In the parks they crawled into flowers, kissing each other and the moon and the sun, vibrating on the dance floor like the strings of wild guitars.

When the music died, we slept. Then we woke up, drifted with sleep in our eyes. Night came, we said prayers together with bride's family. And reaching out our hands in circles around the dinner table, the wedding poured over us again and again like halos. A proud mother and father blessed her with water. And they rose too lifted by doves and angels.

We left the family house and gathered, late at night, around a table. We were all melted visitors, hearts swollen like thunderclouds on summer afternoons, heavy with happiness. Gypsy rivers of nostalgia wandered aimlessly in us. Embracing each other tightly until the bottle of champagne burst open, we drank bubbles and rose to the surface, breathing.

In the morning, the last moments of a crescent moon waned in the morning light, signalling a new month. I was exhausted from four sleepless days but far too excited for sleeping; I was a moon travelling too close to a red sunrise.

When the plane landed in Boston I kissed their hands. Silk silver curtains from the sky were still falling around us, making God's fog. And the butterfly was still glowing.