The house once again buzzed with people instead of insects.

On weekends, multitudes who had dropped in were fed at folding tables that filled the large added–on room that architecture student Len had designed.

Cousins sprawled on the many couches that turned into fold-out beds, reading. (On the cover of one of their MAD Magazines Fidel Castro smoked an exploding cigar.) 

They would dance, with friends, to songs about tiny bikinis and witch doctor’s remedies for lovesickness.

 

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