I just remembered the night I got into a tour bus for the first time. My friend Mary was there with me, we found out these tour busses were giving free rides on Fridays. This was great. The only bad thing was that you had to be in the bus station at least an hour earlier, because of the free tickets. We wanted to go on top of the bus, but, unluckily we couldn’t.
So, we went in the bottom, anyway. Thing is, it was so much fun, because there were many musicians and clowns that day, and they made the ride funny and interesting.
I pretty much think that night is hard to forget. I was so happy and I enjoyed her company. She was only a friend, I never saw her like anything else. But I decided to give her my favorite guitar pick. I just don’t know why, I just did. And I don’t regret it at all. It was a beautiful yellow- animal printed pick. It looked pretty much like a leopard. I loved that pick, so much.
I don’t know where Mary is now, or what she might be doing at this precise moment; all I know is that we aren’t closer now as we were back in those days. And I always wonder. I wonder where my pick might be. I wonder if she has it still, or maybe it got lost inside a train or something.
Since then, lots of memories just came out of nowhere. Like, this one time when I was at the event for “book’s universal day” and there was this Jazz band.
There is a famous writer who says, in one of his books, that Jazz is like going up in an “elevator of time”. I didn’t really get it until that day. And I remember feeling good, warm inside, and barely closing my eyes at the end of the song. I felt time was frozen, like being in love, almost the same feeling. So, I guess, because of that, maybe you can fall in love with songs as well.