…she says to herself, smiling, and starts dancing her way, slowly, down the three steps that takes her to the big open living room. It only takes one right song to get her into this Mood, and to stay in that mood. A mood not many knows of. A mood that takes her away from any kind of troubles. A mood that lets her be just here, in the now.
The Music makes her feel alive. She sings and disappears into a world of music and dancing. On her own. The rhythm is in her blood, and her body just moves perfectly to the different sounds coming out of the speakers. She knows her funk and soul. She knows her salsa. She sways across the living room floor. For now, there is nothing else.
It’s all in the music, the sound. Slow or uptempo. Genre doesn’t matter to her.It’s pure happiness. It has always been the same. Music makes her feel. It makes her cry. And laugh. It makes her feel strong when needed. And weak when she needs that. Music can even make her feel as if she would be in love. Something happens in her body that she can’t, and wouldn’t want to, stop. Music may even be one of the most beautiful things she knows of. It can be raw or full of pureness, rough or soft, meaningful or hollow. Language doesn’t matter either. The music, and not always the lyrics, talks to her. It’s in the piano, the bass guitar, the drums. Sometimes in the guitar. And the lyrics being told truthfully. The musicians love for what they do, makes her sparkle even more.
Seeing her at a live concert would make you think that she is the definition of happiness. Her smile makes you feel warm, alive and appreciated. And her eyes shine and sparkle, like if the night sky was born in them.
But let me tell you a little secret about her. She’s a funny one, this girl. She has a really silly tattoo on her back that she got when she was seventeen. Not silly to her, of course, because she knows the meaning of it. One of her brothers drew it, so it actually means even more to her. He didn’t know that she was getting it tattooed a few hours later though, because she lied about why she needed it particularly that day. Music, dancing, laughing, singing, joking. That’s her, the real her. So… She tattooed in John Travolta from Saturday Night Fever. With flared trousers and (actually) a ruffle shirt with flared sleeves. The whole shebang. She named him “Mr. NoName”.
Back to her home, the happy place. Ideas are flying through her head. There’s so many thoughts, so much to do and so many ways to do them. The darkness unfolds outside her living room’s panorama window. But her warm home with perfect lighting and newly polished wooden floors, makes her little aware of that. She’s still dancing. Still singing. Still smiling.
From time to time she lives like on clouds. Jumps from one to the other, where the wind just passes by and hardly ever touches her. She feels as if the wind and her, lives in symbiosis with each other. It has taken them some time though, and the wind has given her scars. But the wind doesn’t scare her. How could it, when being so beautiful in its nothingness? Sometimes she stops in between her jumps though, and looks up. She’s still aware of the wind, and its anger, and that it easily can push her off her little fluffy cloud. Not that it’s the end of the world when it happens. There’s always something catching her and helping her back up. Back up to the many white clouds, where the sky is always blue and she can hear an orchestra of harps playing.
And there it is! The wake up.
Mr. Reality knocks on her door. School! Exams on the doorstep and she needs to focus.