We went. We saw. We heard. We swooned. We howled. We sang. We screamed. We loved.
In short Florence and the Machine in concert is a religious experience. Florence is such an amazing presence on stage, lively, adorable, beautiful, graceful, dark, powerful. I adore her.
And me and my ladies had an amazing time. No one was killed, although it was a distinct possibility. Florence rightly decided not to sing Howl, which very well could have sent Temple and I into naked blood rage in the stadium. She did ask for Human Sacrifices before Rabbit’s Heart, which made the three of us crow in delight and glee, while the herd around us skittered nervously and edged farther away.
This morning my voice is raw, my heart is full, and I feel completely contented and blessed at the start of this fall season. I dreamed of a dense and rich land covered in mushrooms, berries, and all sorts of goods to be tended and harvested. The wind is blowing gently with a crisp edge to it. And I look on my laundry list of things to do with a tender smile instead of teeth grinding.
If you get the chance to see the glorious goddess Florence in concert, do it. Just do it.
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