Wading through the crazy cool experience.
This is not how I’ve ever woken up before. My head is where my feet should be, the tent is where the car should be and the sky is where the floor should be. I guess this is the price you pay for camping on a hill. She told me it was a stupid idea, and she was right, I knew it at the time, but I wanted the view.
The hills here are different. They dance into and out of each other and paint the sky all the way to the other end of the world. She wakes up in a ball at the floor of the tent, covered in a bag of crushed chips, she looks at me like the idiot I am. I look at her and extend my hand, it’s time to go down the hill, darling.
On the way we meet all kinds of characters, flamingo’s, crocodiles, unicorns and jellyfish, and we meet the humans carrying them, pumping them up and sliding down the hill trying to carry them. Everyone is slipping, but everyone is smiling, it’s almost like it’s everyone’s birthday and we’ve all been invited.
At the bottom of the hill the river cuts the mountain range in half. The animals begin to float and the people slip and slide trying to get on top of them. A trumpet blasts from the main stage, the lead singer grabs the microphone and sings the word right into my soul – kululeka (relax, you are free). A stranger puts his hand on my shoulder, “hey there, how’s a Jäger sound?” Sounds like heaven my new friend.
I look back at the mountains, watching over us. I look down at the river, lapping around my ankles, gently holding us. I look up at the funk, dancing and grooving on stage, and even though it’s my first time here, I can’t help but get the feeling like I’ve been here before. The feeling like I have just come home.
Images by Grace De La Hunt