Witnessing Miracles: Bobby McFerrin

When we met C. & I. at the exit, on the stairs in front Sala Palatului after the concert last night, C. was singing out loud, whilst I. had a gigantic smile in her eyes; K. had been laughing throughout the concert, I could hear her clearly; as for myself, I had been humming along the whole time, and kept doing it throughout the night, possibly even in my sleep.


The Bobby McFerrin experience has been the best way to start this year's going to concerts and to end the month of January. Starting tomorrow many things will change. And, similar to ancient traditions in any corner of the world, last night's been a good kick of the bad spirits and a calling to the good ones. Not that I necessarily believe this to be the case [which I coincidentally do, at this time], but the 'bare hands' music we've been hearing sounded new and ancient simultaneously, like a long-lost memory resuscitated back to life, but also like a new dream and hope whose birth I was witnessing.
Words are certainly poor to describe the shivers down my spine, at various moments throughout the night.

My only regret: he left too soon.