2300...

Layed back by the wall, people crushing my feet, bodies rubbing on mine, reckless words said, loud laughters, high cheers, cleche way of expressing euphoria (somtimes over expressive), agressive body language.
Many faces with different lines... there is no longer air, only the breath of the 2300 crowed, warm in an unsoothing way... breath, perfume, sweat, cigarettes.
the big screen on my right the big billboards on my left and the music everywhere, listening, standing still, doubting the fact that there might be somthing wrong with my nerveous system.. i am not responding to the music like every one else... my body is still, my smile is out to buy wara2 el bosta, my ears r with the music, my eyes are all around the place watching everyone... studying there every move, catching a glance from the screen on my right, another to the big lit billboards at my left, and a desperate one on the stage, straight forward...
i think i wasnt such a fun company to be with today, but i did enjoy the music... and hated the crowed!