The tide is going home.

Going for a music festival is nearly always a tiring affair; the waiting, the jostling with a sweaty throng of people, and standing for hours on end. It hardly seems worth the effort, and there always comes a point where, out of frustration & pure exhaustion, I inevitably question the reason I came at all.

But then there is the singular moment that comes, unpredictable & sweeping as a tidal wave, a moment so elusive and mysterious that up till now, I feel ill-equipped to describe it. It comes, strong & tactile & palpable, & then ebbs away as if it were a dream. It is the electric moment where everyone stops whatever they are doing, the shoving or screaming or slugging beer or making out, & the air becomes filled with something that I can only describe as the spirit of harmony. It is the moment where in the three-minute space of an otherwise ordinary song, a thousand individuals are transformed into a single body with a solitary pulse.

And this is the beautiful thing: In that instant, no one cares if you are singing off-key or if you don't know all the words or how different you are from the next person, because all that matters is that a piece of music has brought us together like no one & nothing ever can. Sometimes, in the spirit of it all, I take a look around & nearly say aloud to no one in particular, What a strange world we live in. I want to be present in it all. It is then when I realise what a song can do, & suddenly remember why I always come back.