My schizo life

Just finished a little tour with a bunch of beloved hippy ex flower children across France, by train and by car, to b*ttf***k- ville here and there, singing for no money in some church on a top of a remote mountain. The reason: friendship, and joy of singing. It's a thing I would recommend to anybody in the opera world who starts as a human being, and slowly becomes too famous, too busy and too high- maintenance.
There, on the top of the mountain, seated on a tiny little stage , where you think you are probably going to make music for your self, because who on earth is going to GET there, You almost faint when you realize that the place is full, absolutely packed with people, all kinds, all ages,all different, who actually LOVE MUSIC and traveled for hours to be there. To ENJOY the MUSIC.
And there, where the high dome reflects my voice back onto me and onto all those people underneath and bounces it back upwards and sideways and into the stone and outside to the woods and back into the skies, and there, where my soul, and all of our souls, feel like they are being heard; there, I am thankful again.