As darkness fell, lights brightened the trees … and we danced like there was no tomorrow.

Then the wall …

The body said “Stop this immediately and go home!”  I listened.  I never made it back to the main stage for a photo but the spot where I was dancing gives you a good sense of things.

But no more.  I slumped to my locker and then ten minutes to the 10:30 bus stop (not 12:27).

The electronic sign said 11 minutes to the 260.  Then, to my half-shut eyes there slowly appeared a sequence of numbers – something like 9, 8, 6, 5, 6, 5, 4, 3, 5 …  Maybe you get the idea but I sure didn’t.  Perhaps if I wasn’t exhausted I could have coped better with the never-arriving bus.  I started looking for a rock I could throw at the sign.

Anyway, by 11:15 I was pulling the covers up to my neck.

***

Okay … I’m really tired. I’m on the terrace of Delizia, coaxing energy from my latté. The lovely woman running the show just placed a metal object on my table and it took me thirty seconds to figure out what it was. Voilà:

Ash tray!

So what, oh what is today going to be? Lifting a finger feels like an effort. What about all the other muscles of the body? The Core Festival opens in twenty minutes. I’ll take my time walking there. We’ll see what is revealed.

***

I’m lounging in the shade, earplugs inserted, watching Glints roam the stage and rev up the crowd. On the big screen I see lots of folks bouncing up and down.

I’m jealous … because I have nothing. I’m ready with my Africa map t-shirt and dancing running shoes but all my tissues are sagging. I don’t know how I’ll feel in two hours but there are no cool moves in the bod in current time.

A young couple just came up to me, loving my Africa shirt. We talked for a few minutes about dancing and Ghent and Antwerp. I’m smiling. Still pooped but people show me that it’s not important. They are.

Two teenaged girls come by. They love my shirt too. They live in Ghent and ask me to wear Africa during Patershol Feesten – the August festival in my neighbourhood. “Sure, I’ll do that.” > “Good. We’ll find you.” The Feesten is from August 11 to 13. Guess I’ll have a stinky shirt by the last day.

This is so eerie. I left the Core Festival mid-afternoon because my body was done. Not a minute of dancing today. I’ve just slept for two hours at the Airbnb and still I’m weary. It’s 8:30.

Today didn’t follow the expected script, or even a weird and wonderful variation. And I can live with that.

See you tomorrow, as I return to Ghent