That night there was no
moon. If you looked up the sky went on forever. For any of
this to make sense you have to
understand that we are just little punks that are
addicted to the
beauty and
magic of life. We've found
beauty in ourselves, but only through
each other, and in the magic places we've found around
where we live. We were at the
cliffs that night, which are situated above a
lake. We were driven there by the terrible winds within us. The crying of our
souls, they
anger of our minds, the restlessness of our hearts. We took our
inner wind out to this
solitary place, on a lake, in the middle of nowhere. To scream. To shout. To
call the wind.
The real wind
To be quite
honest, this is the
first time, as a group, that we've done this. One or two of us have had the occasion, standing on top of a
mountain, or a
cathedral, to call. So the energy of the group was anxious and excited. We sat around for a while,
singing each other
showtunes. And, then we decided it was time. We gathered together. We talked about what we were
screaming for. What we wanted blown away, and what we wanted to
find underneath. And then we called.
That was two weeks ago, and it's still
windy here. I know some of our
questions have still been left unanswered, but there's hope.
Tomorrow's going to be another windy day.