First time at a music festival

Breathe… Breathe… It’s hard but still, ok, distract yourself. To the left, skinny girl, made up enough for someone twice her age. To the right, kids, not more than 13, faces painted in all the colours that have a fluorescent shade. Some just a few lines and dots, others, whole faces. It’s the age when the girls are taller than the boys, the age when pimples break out and tired is not something that you feel.
A hefty guy lifts a skinny one on his shoulders. They sway dangerously for a minute. Both drunk, probably high too and the skinny one now physically. He fists the air repeatedly to the throbbing bass. You feel it in your chest, your heart trying to match the rhythm. All you see is a sea of heads, bobbing, shaking, nodding, banging. Blonde, brown, green, orange, pink. Wearing funny hats, still trying to display flower power with wreaths of fake flowers twining around long tangled tresses.
It’s cold , the wind is chilly and infused with the moisture from the Tyne. You expect the air to sting as it enters your lungs but it doesn’t because it is heavy with smoke. The smell of nicotine is overpowering, mixed with the stench of beer and sweat. A girl with shorts that are too short and eye lashes that are too long bumps into you in her music induced stupor. She mouths her apology and then goes back to snogging a skinny boy with dirty hair. You look up to see an open bottle full of a bubbly yellow liquid… Could be beer… Could be pee. It flies across the crowd, an arch of the liquid behind it, probably dripping on the people who unfortunately are in the line of fire. I doubt they notice though. Condoms filled with air float harmlessly like balloons above thousands of bejewelled, dirty hands with an assortment of fingers sticking out and moving, urging the band to play louder. Voices singing along with the lyrics, mostly just screaming the words out of tune. Slowly the sky is getting darker, a few random rain drops fall but then the sky decides it doesn’t want to cry today.
The lights are flashing, the large screens showing the action on the stage two seconds late, so the sound comes before the handsome singer mouths the words. A tall blonde man realises that you can’t see anything, smiles at you and moves to his left so you can. But it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to see anything.
You feel the music building up inside you. You close your eyes and let it fill you up. Your legs start moving and your hands start clapping. You are like a puppet in the hands of the song. There surrounded by friends, you wish you had someone to snog like the girl in short shorts, but the feeling doesn’t last for long. For today the music is enough. For today you don’t mind the taste of cigarette smoke, the smell of the throng, the sights of little girls in littler shorts and the feel of asphalt under your feet, making them hurt. All you care about it your sense of hearing and the beautiful tunes that are doing wonderful things to your body and soul.

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