As if I was you.
Posted on 22/04/21 08:45am
2019. April 27th.
Last night, we played a wonderful gig in Frankfurt. Dear old friends, and some new soon to be old friends.
After the gig, I went outside and talked with a local man.
We spoke for quite a while. He told me many fascinating stories. ‘I don’t get a chance to speak this way, with time to unfold my stories’ he said.
He told me one story, dear to his heart, and at one point, the meaning of the story, was caught in his throat, and he couldn’t speak for a second, ‘I cannot tell it without....’ he said, but by that point, it had all been said.
And his story, was stuck in my throat.
We are, to put it mildly, as delicate as stone,
and as tough as smoke.
Go easy with the shouters, the screamers, the constant moaners. Their claws are brittle, their hearts beat like swallow wings and bruise under bright light.
In the middle of the night, they wake up to themselves, and try to turn away.
It’s worth remembering, I think, that when they snap and spit at you, for the smallest indiscretions, the points that prove you all too human, they are giving you a glimpse of their history, and the ache that remains as constant and universal as loss.
Listen to her stories, be heart deep in his tales, as though they were your very own.