The dead like to dance, too.
Visit any cemetery at midnight and you’ll see their strange gavotte. That diaphanous mist that hugs the ground and swirls around the monuments, that’s them.
They’re raving in the nave, tapping in the sacristy and bopping down the aisle. Not to mention pirouetting over the recently deceased, who have to be teased out of their lie down.
The dead have a saying: you’re a long time dead, and life’s wasted on the living.
All night the weird bacchanalia continues, the debauched Dance of the Defunct.
‘Until the day break, and the shadows flee away.’