At Grateful Dead shows at the Hartford Civic Center I remember gazing across the expanse between my upper level and the other side. The roiling mass of people on the floor, blurry in a haze of smoke. The soundboard twinkling and blinking in the dark. I’d look straight across to my twin up there, another dumbass schoolkid with a friend or two and a hit of blotter on his tongue. But I could not discern the faces in the gloom. What I saw was silhouettes, backlit in the passageways. Utterly anonymous, shadowy figures, impossibly far away in every sense.