From the entrance of the mansion, voices and accordion music could be heard echoing throughout the staircase. I rang the bell a little grumpily: it is an unpleasant thing to go to a party alone. Behind the door, feminine voices stood out.

Parashos' sister opened the door for me with great warmth. - Parashos' friend, the poet? I smiled while gulping. His sister took my coat and led me to the living room. She was blonde and slender, with a stain under her left eye.

The living room was drowning in noise and smoke. In one corner, the accordion player, surrounded by snacks and ashtrays, played with skill but without spirit. In the middle, four or five couples were dancing. Others had settled into the armchairs and the sofa.

(from the short story: "Upset Stomach")