Music
The annual folk music festival was the kind of event I would be willing to attend even if I had to crawl to get there. Just to see, hear, and feel. Hear and see the singers (one less each year), see the audience get up and applaud as one, or just stand quietly when the screens were showing the artists who will no longer be perform for us, hear 4000 people sing along in a whisper or in a frenzy.
Here is an old song from my youth, it says: I'm clean in my body, clean in my soul, I want to understand and to love; it does not matter how long my hair is- the important matter is how and how much I think.
And here is one we whispered: nobody will know I'm gone, they will just see I'm not there; the sky is high, the world is wide, good thing the wood's in leaf...I am swinging below the flowers...and then the same verses shuffled. Sweet, naive songs of our youth- how long can we still cling to them?
3 comments:
The music and the atmosphere in the concert are really nice, more than nice. It, even, takes me to the protest concerts I used to go. There is so many things to remember, to re-live.
I'm glad you enjoyed it, although you don't feel so well now. Take care, you two.
Thanks, you too. I hope your day was neither sad, nor too busy.
About re-living: can we really? One annoying effect of growing old: nothing tastes the same.
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