I walked into another darkened tent. A wood railing divided the area for the audience to stand from the small stage on the other side. Also Sprach Zarathustra, later to be known as the theme from Two-Thousand-and-One: A Space Odyssey, began to play from a tiny speaker set on the edge of the stage. A man's voice, sounding a lot like Dr. Spinelli's, but deeper, spoke over the music. "In the distant, misty mountains of Asia, isolated peoples live as they have since before history. Special infant girls are chosen to have their ancient knowledge tattooed onto their bodies, starting in their first year of life. Throughout their lives, they continue to add tattoos representing their legends and knowledge in patterns and images. These women are never allowed to leave their remote villages. Only rare reports of them have come to the western world. But now..." A spotlight came on with a loud click. A head appeared at the back of the stage as a young woman began to slowly climb the hidden stairs. Her dark, wavy hair hung down past her shoulders. She wore a long black cloak, clasped around her neck and pulled closed around her body. Only her soft, beautiful face, pale in the bright light, framed by hair and cloak, and her ankles, above her slippered feet, were showing. "...but now..." the voice continued, rising with the music, "Spinelli Entertainment brings to you, for the first time ever in this hemisphere, the Tattooed Girl!"

The girl stood mid stage, feet together, with her head tilted down and to the side, eyes closed, like a renaissance Madonna. At the crescendo of triumphant horns, gracefully, effortlessly, she opened her cloak, spreading her arms until they were fully extended from her sides. She wore only a faded red bikini, but she did not look naked. From just below her throat to just above her ankles she was decorated with tattoos. Intricate, lacy, bright greens and reds were brought out by strong black lines, contrasted by the large areas of the pale peach of her natural flesh. Among the patterns were plants, people and animals, all seemingly in motion.
Taking a deep breath, and with it, a faint whiff of perfume, I felt like someone had just turned on the oxygen.

Sitar music began and she began pacing slowly across the stage, not looking down at the audience. She removed her cloak with a flourish, swirling and releasing it to fly behind the stage. Her back was to the audience now, so that they could see the other side of the intricate lingerie on her bare skin. Her back was dominated by a magnificent tree that swayed with the movements of her arms and torso.
She looked over her shoulder at me standing there alone. Our eyes locked for a moment, then the spotlight clicked out.