and i remember those mornings, driving in the stony roads passed those gates. earlier than everyone else. i knew where the key was. the one who would first enter those mornings. i always made it a point to come in early. i don't know why. and the keys did their job, the sights and sound being too familiar. i remember. i knew which light switch would hit the ones for the stage. i remember the stillness of the hall. in all its glory. in its sight and what it was were something which struck me every morning.

i remember. having to set up the equipment. to be there by myself - before everyone else.
to plug my equipment in. to have it tuned just the way i wanted it to. and then quiet. silence. once again.

i breathe and speak to you. to ask for you. to plead with you. to tell you sorry for this week. for the terrible things. to allow me to stand here on this stage to play for you. i remember.
and then to strum and play something in my head. and to let the music juices flow.
this is why and how you gave me such talents. i will remember.