Would you describe “Arthur Murray dance diagram” for me? The snow fell in huge, leisurely flakes, piling itself carefully on everything, even twigs and telephone wires. Putting white caps on the hydrants, covering the mud puddles and buckled sidewalks. A Benediction for the Day of the Dead. Or perhaps last rites, this weary world with all its faults consenting to lie down with a sigh and be covered up with a sheet. “Holy is the day”—I had just thought those words when he came tramping tiredly up the walk, leaving behind a trail, the impressions of his leather shoes. At the curb he’d hesitated, turning this way and that before coming up my walk. It looked like an Arthur Murray dance diagram. Would you describe “Arthur Murray dance diagram” for me? Thanks! And this excerpt is taken from The Lacuna by Kingsolver.