March 25th.
Sickness not quite overcome, to the point where if I exert myself even a little
I could back fire my healing process.
The overbearing, highs and lows of frequencies unfamiliar to our precious ears.
The later into the night the louder the mix becomes.
The sound of the crowd, slurring and humming their favourite tunes of the act.
The heat evaporating into little droplets of sweat on the next persons' shoulder.
The dissolving of foundation on pretty girls' faces'. And their eyeliner dispositioning itself for that matter too.
The endless number of feet stomping on the floor, in circles, in patterns, rhythms.
The smiles and drinks held upon head height just to last it's transfer.
The starring and judgement of dress codes filling empty spaces and blank faces.
Yep. I'm going to a gig.
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