coffee no. 112

Years ago, at the age of 14 or 15, my two friends and I were at a very peculiar concert. The event took place in the park, near the city centre, on a spring sunny day. In addition it was Saturday early afternoon, so you can imagine crowds of happy people, from mothers with their kids, to saunting pensioners. But, surprisingly, there was nobody. Only three of us and a well known in the city bum who always looked like a parrot, wearing tons of ribbons and odd shoes. So we were staying a couple of metres from the stage, waiting for the concert to begin, and after some minutes it really did. The band consisted of a bit tough guys with long hair and leather trousers. They came to the stage very embarassed and astonished with all that absurd situation, and performed for about half an hour. We were clapping, trying not to burst in laughter, and the bum was dancing like a mad, his ribbons were floating, oh it was so crazy! I wonder what the musicians must have felt in that moment, how they were, what were they thinking of while playing their serious songs only for three cynical girls and twirling Mr. Parrot...
The answer to that question is obvious, of course.