The review was probably a bit too poetic, but fuck it, eh. It's hard to say very sensible things about how the shadows during the electronic-cricket-chirp dance crawled across the back wall like mutant gods, or how funny the argumentative-lemurs-telling-a-story dance was, or how the deep-in-the-mud-of-the-cave dance made me think of a phrase I read once, one writer saying of understanding another's work, that it was like seeing a shaft of light flashing into the inner penetralium of human experience -- or how sad and angry the trees-cut-down dance was at the end, how we could hardly believe the abruptness of its end, so the staff had to start the clapping.
Thanks to you all for the multiple suggestions about the correct disposal of bees.
buddleia, ceciley, applez, goldleafgoddess, tenderhooligan and 1843, your answers left me with more questions. 
