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Rating: It's been... I don't know, I think four days since that concert. Not much time has passed, really.
I've thought long and hard about the words to write, and I still haven't found them. I don't think I ever will. I don't think they exist. I don't think they're needed.
A Sunday evening, not too hot, in Bologna. A venue not too large, not too bright, a friend with me.
They enter the stage, the crowd starts to shout, clap, whistle. I stood there motionless, eyes fixed on the stage, I didn't feel like doing or saying anything. I was trembling. And I was barely holding back the tears.
The show begins, if you can call it that. The sounds hit me, they enter me, they eviscerate me. Every note is a damn tear. Here there aren't songs, it's a continuous flow that shakes you and devastates you, elevates you to the sky only to throw you back down to the ground.
I remember every moment of calm, every more intense moment.
I remember wanting to kill anyone who shouted during the tensest moments.
I remember everything.
I remember when they started "Your Hand In Mine". And there, I couldn't take it anymore.
I cried, I think, like never before in my life. Like only a child knows how.
The concert ends, people start to thin out, leaving satisfied. I remain motionless, staring at a point that perhaps didn't even exist. Until I manage to move, and then we head home. My friend goes to sleep, I stay up all night at the table, probably going through twenty cigarettes in four hours.
And meanwhile, I think back to the magic experienced that evening. I'd been waiting for it for three years. A magic that will never break.
I think back to every moment of calm, to every more intense moment.
I think back to wanting to kill anyone who shouted during the tensest moments.
I think back to everything.
I think back to every tear shed and not even wiped away.
And, thinking back to all this, in the complete silence of the night, I shed more.
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