I am not a good post-gig conversationalist. Sometimes there are no words. On small, miraculous occasion, you will see a show that is immeasurably bigger than you are. All I can do in those moments is awkwardly cling to myself and soak up the words of others. Lost in a kind of afterglow where the shocks still travel through my veins in tiny shudders, a sonic minefield in what is left of the brain, entire galaxies fusing almost imperceptibly into my DNA. I still feel them there. I will never be the same again. Changed in ways we can't yet perceive, besides the double skip of a heart and an insatiable desire to get back into the spaceship.
Picture lovingly borrowed from Lucyparakhina via Fasterlouder. I hope she doesn't mind.
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