I went out at the Eastern Gate,
I saw the girls in clouds;
Like clouds they were, and soft and
But in the crowds
I thought on the maid who is my light,
Down-drooping, soft as the grey
She is my mate.
Chinese Love Lyric, 680 B.C.
Clouds of girls drift across the stage. Girls soft and bright, girls fast and funny, girls with dreamy looks and pouty looks, girls with languid smiles and impudent grins, girls with unruly bangs and neat velvety chignons, girls with eyes slanted a little and girls...