Morning. Unwanted.

The sun was already 3 hours in the sky, and still only a few noises were stirring. 

-Soon we'll be in the bus rushing out of here. I hope the drive is under 4.

I was already thinking about tomorrow. I'm foolish that way. To let these moments go unappreciated. Somehow that day, kindly, I was brought back. Reminded of the importance of taking things in.

Still in a half-sleep, like my mind was still swimming in melatonin. 

My moves were clumsy. My thoughts slow. And the world seemed with me.

We yearned for stillness. To return to quietness. But morning has a way of announcing itself. Unwanted.

I couldn't tell you specifically what woke me up. Maybe it was a smell lingering on my shirt lifted by the morning breeze? Maybe it was a laugh from the tent next to me as another festival goer began waking up? Maybe it was the squeak of a bird, or the revving of an engine.

Setting my boots to the side of my tent I stretched out my body over dirt, cool and tender. Letting my feet press into the few patches of grass left standing. And looking at the hundreds of tents around me I was hit with a memory. A flash of the night before. Like a dream, I was

Under a string of red and blue lights. Swinging back and forth. Lights.  One strand over the whole tent.

Keeping its own movement over a thousand voice chant over the pulse of bass.

Slowly.

Swinging. 

As the bodies moved in together. Closer to the stage. Closer. The breath. The heat.

I felt the sun on my bare feet, over my arms radiating into my chest and remembered feeling the heat.

But I had only noticed it when...

A cold touch of skin. Hands and arms. Flashes of hair twirling as the lights turned from colors to White. A body and leather fringe spun away. Black.  The crowd moved together feeling through the dark. White again. And I'm near a tall blonde in leather. Then black again. Moving away.

From a tent two rows down I saw our tour manager Eva emerge. Stumbling with closing the zipper. She turned around and gave me look like. Let's move it along.

I hadn't used much since I was our here, so it was easy to pack up my bag again.

Clothes. Book. Deodorant. Shoes. Jacket. 

Bass.

This bass.

My anchor.

Tethered me to the stage. Playing the notes from finger memory. My mind had left. There was just music. My body holding the bass, holding me to the song. Each note pulsed as I plucked. A wide vibration rung out into the sea of people.

My mind is in the sea. I, the maker of waves, thrown in the tide. Till security pulled me back. Grabbed by the collar. Pulled away from people. And back to the stage.

Eva comes by in sunglasses now. And coffee. Awake. Alert now.

-you ready Rene?

-as always

to be cont.

-rene


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mood: Too Much Sorrow