The show starts outside the theater. A car, with its right rear window busted out, pulls up, music blaring, bass turned up. A burly, formidable man exits the driver’s seat, opens the trunk, and props himself casually against the passenger-side door. From the trunk, Sati Veyrunes emerges. Veyrunes is small, spunky, and elfin—she parts the crowd as she begins to perform, channeling the music as though possessed. Veyrunes holds tension in her body almost like electricity—she melds with the beat like one does at 2 am, surrounded by strangers, everything enhanced by a (perhaps synthetic) euphoria. At times, Veyrunes’ eyes roll back in their sockets, her eyelids flickering, as though the music and the movement are allowing her to transcend her earthly body.