Literature
Evocation
I have no memory of what came before. It's as though I didn't exist prior to this moment and have just come into existence and apparated into this crowd, in this hall, surrounded by the ordered chaos of these several hundred people. We're collected here for a singular purpose, all of us waiting to bear witness, to share witness. They seem not to notice me, caught as I am in the frenetic jumble, almost vibrating in tune with the collective hum of anticipation. The reverberation rises with activity on the stage ahead and above us to crescendo as a woman appears, guitar slung low, eyes wide and bright, the room hanging on the precipice until those first chords, a familiar structure, then the space erupts into mayhem. Nothing comes close to the magic of this music, the harmony formed of hundreds of voices, of heartbeats, synchronized with the one who leads, the one whose voice and instrument eclipse the crowd, riding our energy and elevating us all to some higher plane. Beneath it all