#FireHorsesQuotes 74: "...A grassland of hands dancing through the air as if sculpting light..."

#FireHorsesQuotes 74: “When a crocodile of teens embarked at Jones Brothers, I braced myself for their antics, their nudging and giggling and piss-water bombs; I hid my camera like porn beneath my coat. But after a few minutes in my solitary haze I noticed something, or the absence of something, and looked up to see a grassland of hands dancing through the air as if sculpting light, a party of deaf children signing a cacophony of invisible words I would never hear.”