Lisztomania: In Which I Enjoy a Phoenix Concert

Sunday night one of the more exciting things I’ve done as a college kid happened: I went to a Phoenix concert with some friends.  Since I have been a casual admirer of this Parisian indie quartet for about two years, I am glad I had this opportunity.

Though we were packed in shoulder to shoulder, the guy in front of me was too tall for me to get any good pictures of the band, and the arena smelled strongly of weed, it didn’t matter once the show started. As the music flowed through me, I could finally take a break from over-thinking. Instead of worrying about the pressures of my new grown-up life, I sang along. Instead of questioning whether I was good enough for anyone to REALLY be interested in me, I absorbed the melodies and harmonies. Instead of stressing about what was ahead, I felt the vibrations from the drums and guitars. I was content.


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