On For Sergio:

"Somewhere around this time, a friend of Alan's and Freddie's, an Italian gay man named Sergio, died in Rome from an OD or suicide, it was unclear. And Freddie scheduled himself to do a memorial on one of the dance nights. [...]

He arrived in black tights and a leotard, with a fierce archaic face mask painted on his face, and whispered to us to kill all the lights: house lights, stage lights, everything. I noticed he was in toe shoes. [...]

Freddie had an antique wall sconce with a mirror, the kind that used to hold a candle, and he lit a taper he had placed in it. And in that dark and suddenly silent theatre with his back to the audience, he began laboriously and slowly to go down one side aisle of the theatre, across the front below the proscenium, and up the other side. En pointe. The only music was the sound of his deliberately exagerrated and labored breathing. And the slow scraping of his toe shoes on the rough floor. The light, the flickering light of the candle reflected his painted face in the mirror in his hand.

He was gone again before any of us could move. No doubt he grabbed another cab and went back to his loft." -- Diane di Prima. Recollections of My Life as a Woman: The New York Years. New York: Viking, 2001.