Last night I saw Helado Negro
performing his sweet tunes
pouring them like warm oil in my ears
I closed my eyes
without thinking I was back
wherever I would play País Nublado was home
a cold room in the Mexican mountains
one sunny morning in my old Brussels flat
late night bike rides
every time it would mean the start of something
hatching eggs in a warm nest and watching them fly
far away from this cloudy country
goodbye she smiles
find me where summer never ends
I wrote this poem named 'Where summer never ends' three years ago after seeing Helado Negro play live in my hometown in Belgium. Last night he performed in Valencia and his music brought back all the feels. The sweetness, the freedom, the soothing of journeys down Memory Lane, all within the space and time of a song. So grateful for live music, forever my highest high.
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