Writer's Legs.

Sound waves touched my legs. Touching them quickly and letting go. They felt comforting. I could almost see them pushing air particles into each other. I felt happy. It is one of the most transcending experiences to feel the vibrations bump into you and then leaving, without as much as a goodbye. They give you a feeling that you are full of life. They let you know that you are not alone. As soon as my legs deflected the sound waves, I craved for them. I wanted them to shake my legs a bit. They were a bit cold, and needed some movement.

Cramped, in between towering shoulders and sound waves, some angst teenagers that attempted to burn a rolled blunt interrupted the rapture I was experiencing. My air particles began to fight against the smell. Why are so many obsessed with this little phototroph? As soon as they were escorted out, I was able to indulge in the pleasure of listening to a band. A band whose music is the sole remnant I have of the one person I've ever loved. Even if it was from afar, they left me their music. I find comfort in that, knowing that they left me something so beautiful.

The lead singer touched the drums with such clarity and love, that the music coming out was more than I could ever want. If I could mark and re-live one of the best expriences, I would not hesitate to choose this one, on this particular night. I pumped shoulders with strangers, and I, siting there without familiar people or surroundings, felt how beautiful life is. I, in a room with strange souls, feeling the sound waves hitting us, deflecting, loved my life. For that two hours performance, I felt in good company.

As the show ended, I glanced to all the hands clasping each other, at all the friends capturing moments with each other. I walked with the night beside me. I walked peacefully and content to my car. My hand clasping my happiness.

With my windows down, felling the night sit beside me was all the company I needed as I drove home.