The Field and the Sound
I was lying in a farmer’s field outside Leeds in 1970, the grass damp and the air electric. The band was miles away but the sound carried – pure and round like a bell through fog. I remember closing my eyes and feeling the bass line in my ribs. It wasn’t about lyrics or chords, it was something older, something human. That night, I promised myself I’d never forget how it felt to be both tiny and infinite at the same time.
Anonymous
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