Halaka

Panic. Sweat. It's dark in here. A man runs up and down the stairs with a lavalier mic strapped to his chest. Somebody else hits a chair. Yet another person slides a two stringed bass across the concrete floor. Cables and cassette tape are strewn about. Electronic devices teter haphazardly from the tops of record players, broken tape players, and suitcases. Guitar strings hang from above. Chord organs blare. The fish keeps swimming, boy howdy does that fish ever keep swimming.