pictures via things organized neatly
the sunday before the last
i died a little during m83's set, was at the foremost front row slamming words against the hard look a security guard gave me. but he knew i was happy, beset in a kind of happiness he didn't understand. everyone else was either drunk or happy or maybe both but i was solely happy. there was comfort there, in strange bodies and alien noises. i remember holding on to three things: 1) the fence rusts 2) my camera 3) anthony's hand before the festival came to a decrescendoing final halt, with prolonged white noise as a souvenir. i remember i saw an honest whiteness and something brighter than white for some seconds before the blackness came to embrace us again
faceless people with sultry laughs and transfixed eyes, while i jumped and screamed and pushed away and fell and pranced and shouted syllables that did not mean a thing to me. doing all those things people did not see and doing all those things people did see, or did want to see, who could've cared. my fingers kept trampling through foreign dresses with feminine appliques; and pastel fabrics of green, of seafoam, of off-white, and of lavender pink, looking for a speck of comfort. it was there. and everywhere else. i was happy and i thought 'i'll remember being happy'. behind the crushed velvet curtain i said to my friend, 'this has been fun.' but we knew it was more than that. glances were exchanged and in those pairs of living orbs i knew that it was all an accumulation of moments to be imminently missed and a pinch of shared knowledge that we all were in position of warning ourselves to take things slowly. but time had always been a deaf companion and humans were always in a haste. but we were happy—and as deaf as clock hands for some moments, only excreting sounds.
at night my hair bred bobby pins and i stole a pocketful of minutes thinning back my face from all those viscous minerals and volatile colors. it felt weird to be someone else. and walk someone else's walk. like finally the lines are clear and you start to hate yourself a little less
or maybe also love people a little more