wgruber
The little girl didn't know what she was doing, just that she wanted to make her mother proud, her father proud... all her friends proud. She thought this is what it was meant to be beautiful, but someday she'd learn from the bathroom whores she frequently lived with while hiding her addictions, beauty is pretty hard to attain.
Walking down the aisles carefully as to not disturb the others. I glance over the years of history, the years of theirstories, the years of art that's been look at, not looking as myself, but as humanity, what has everyone else thought of this at first glance... after careful consideration?
Small little creatures, walking on the picnic sheet. We are but ants on the sheet we established. Patches of city, of field, of crop. Patches we crawl along, who is bigger watching us with a magnifying glass in hand?
Being there, in the heat, in the muck, the mud, the sweat, the general grossness of everyones bodies being thrown against each other was worth it. Because we were all happy, we were all here for one thing, the high that music gave us. We shared that hear, that muck, that mud, that sweat, that everything, for the music.