On her head was the usual three-cornered headwrap, which in the hands of the negress becomes a turban.

There was more leisurely space for his playing in the first half — he sparkled on a richly reharmonized “Over the Rainbow,” his longtime trump card — but the second half felt more purposeful and vital.

My arm fell asleep. You know, like pins and needles.

Meanwhile, the querent stood before the Altar, crowned with laurel, while powered laurel leaves were burnt as incense.