Just Give Me the Stage

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Hidden backstage behind immense curtains is a great place to be immersed in conversation. A few minutes before sound check is an opportune time to exchange words with a stranger, or, a stranger who will not be a stranger for long.

Black veils stretch from floor to ceiling. They hang sleepily over our conversation, enshrouding it from other ears and eyes. When I saw you, I was surged by the strongest volt of happiness, it shook me a little bit. I spoke your name into the air saturated with excitement. I was unsteadied by the exhilaration of OMG I LOVE STAGES! Oh my GOSH! Look who’s here, betcha I’m in heaven.

SENSORY OVERLOAD. SENSORY OVERLOAD.

Some other indescribable helplessness washes over me like a crashing wave can knock you over when you’re out too deep. “Can’t wait to hear you play. I love jazz.” Jazz is a part of me. Do you mean you love that part of me? And I’m the only person you’ve met who knows who Chris Botti is. A common passion is lit behind these curtains, and with his hand on my shoulder, I think it might be way more than just Chris Botti.

Please: don’t inflict magic on me if I’m the only one experiencing it. I’m just not doing this. Leave me in celibacy of mind. Just give me the stage.

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