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Ghent Jazz afterglow

I received an email from a sweet friend wishing me a happy new year instead of the old known happy birthday. Because it's a new life year and that's a reason to party. I like that a lot. It reminded me of a book with aboriginal stories I read, which explains they don't celebrate birthdays or new life years, nothing like that. They celebrate the moment they feel they have become a better person. Now this I love. Because you feel you have become a better version of yourself, you dance. You laugh, you party, you feast.

So today, my friends, we celebrate. Because since yesterday I am a better person. I feel like all I want to do for the rest of my life is to run around smiling from ear to ear. Kiss every person that crosses my path. Dance through streets and throw confetti in peoples faces. I. Can. Not. Wait.

You ask me why? What on earth happened to me yesterday that made me wake up as a better person today?

Gregory Porter happened.

I can't even start to explain what that man did to my soul. But since I love to talk, I'll try anyway.

From the moment he walked on stage, he put me in a blissful trance that I'm not planning on leaving. Ever. His voice is like cream. Like pouring cream in your ear but not really. Better. Like eating Belgian chocolates for 24 hours straight without feeling sick. Like a warm blanket on a cold morning. All the highest highs and no lows. Pure happiness. I laughed, cried, danced, sang, screamed, forgot where I was and who I was. And as I walked away after the concert I realised: this is what brings out the best in me. This is what feeds my soul.

Thank you Mister Porter, for your fine, fine music.

Something nice for your ears and eyes:

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