There’s nothing like a dance floor, full of heat and steam, thumping with the energy of a bass beat. Darkness is cut by club lights; smoke blurs the edges; the gyration of the crowd is tribal. But lean in more closely and you’ll hear the quiet inside the pounding rhythm, and see the singularity of the dancer as well as the community of the floor, You’ll see the connection and the disconnection. The action and the reaction. The protection and the danger. Stories and secrets. The sweet and the salty. The afterglow, the aftermath, the consequences, the price to pay. There’s reverence, memories, anticipation, yearning. And always in the middle is a girl. . .