We started out in a white pick-up truck and found ourselves in the midst of pulsating rhythms bouncing off walls and swirling in colored lights. The positioning was unfortunate: in front, an ostentatious display of disillusioned affection – two lusty persons attached disgustingly by skin and lips and necks, for four hours straight; behind us, the smell of grass and ferment, a lulling, inarticulate speech – smoke and an egregious whisper. Legs aching, arms folded, we were swept away by the orchestral dynamics of an energetic sound, which brought our heartbeats in tune with the crescendoing bass and agitated drums. We felt ourselves cushioned, standing on disjointed and beautiful melodies, crowded in by a harmonious screeching, sounds of birds, blowing. We existed in the gnawing and tugging feelings that magnetized us and drew us into his strumming fingers and sweaty brow. We listened. We were out of our bodies, oscillating between shadow and light. I felt swallowed by hypnosis, unable to resist a psychedelic vision of glaring sound that all became one with my being. The notes were organic and raw and vibrant. Purity reigns in dirt and dischord and loud, loud, intensive ringing. It was a test of stamina, a test of senses, a test of confidence in existence.