The hypnotizing sound of trumpet cut through the smoky room. Humidity filled every corner and the drops falling from the ceiling landed on the heads of lost souls dancing with the demons only jazz could bring to life. The trumpeter leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, the smoke penetrating through his nostrils. With his eyes closed, he opened his soul and let the moment to fill the void in his heart. The night began to turn to a day and nobody seemed to care. The devils were dancing with the saints their last dance and the weird world rolled on.