2023. 6. 21 Wed

My eyes are blurry. I go for a little walk at 10.

The people of the Fête de la Musique are again squatting in our corner of the square for one night. This night of June 21. 

The same hippies as the last year I think, with scraps of instruments and a wagon by the grass and their loose audience with friends, kids and dogs running about. They play all kinds of stuff, jazz, rock, bossanova, indigenous music, keyboard, drum ... but none of them completely. Music always starts abruptly, then diminishes gradually. So it feels like a whacky jam session of a particularly lazy band, through whose sound the similarly lazy summer afternoon materialises. And it continues lazily into the night.

As I’m coming out of the dark alley, these scattered fragments of indolence shine through the big columns with the street lamps. The chatter of people here and there, quiet but clearly audible through the calm of the night, and random trickling notes from a saxophone.