Travel light

If you think about it, many of the things that make you feel miserable in your daily life are a direct result of some deeply rooted inertia, a lack of energy combined with fear of falling out of the blue open sky in midflight, while also being completely conscious about everything you're missing out on: the feeling of accomplishment after a reckless adventure, the mental or physical touch of a stranger that strikes you with such warmth that you feel it for weeks, months, lifetimes to come, the memory of a warmth that has abandonned you, and you're not sure if you'll be able to ever relive it. It's like hearing the rythm of your favourite poem in your head, but forgetting the words and the meaning in time. Everything fades into a blur, and you see yourself in the centre with a million eyes fixed on you, filled with expectations, their image of you nothing but that: an image, a shallow 2D representation reality, with no regard to how you move, how you sound, what goes on inside and brings you to your everyday expressions. How easy it is to forget oneself when turned into the object of their gaze.



It's never easy to stop the train of thoughts, especially when it's derailed and seems to be going nowhere, an aimless projectile, bound to hit something really hard, really soon. Sometimes it just takes a beautiful day and a genuine smile, encounters with people that move you, inspire you and make the future seem worthwhile. Change is something that grows from the inside out, sinks into everything that surrounds you and makes sure that nothing ever looks the same.
It's summer and I want to live in this forever.

I want to conclude this little rant with some words that I stole from the site of a French screamoband called Baron Noir. It has everything and nothing to do with what's written above, but it somehow seemed appropriate. Either way, I never came across a better description of what this type of music and community means to me.



Conscients que la musique ne pourra jamais suffire à changer quoi que ce soit, c'est pourtant elle qui nous permet quotidiennement de cracher ce qu'on est obliger de retenir, la rage intime qui nous constitue plus que ce que le monde nous impose. C'est à cette rage qu'on reconnaît les nôtres et c'est sur elle que se fondent nos rencontres. On la braille dans un micro pour toucher ceux et celles qui s'y reconnaissent et se renforcer mutuellement. Parce que les seuls espaces de liberté possibles sont ceux qu'on prend, vole ou crée. ça ne va pas plus loin que ça. baise les artistes.