Je sens presque plus mes blessures
La fin des tourments
Les heures á se ronger les sangs
J’ai même retrrouvè l’sourire
J’ai même des visions d’avenir
Des airs de printemps . . .
Karkwa “Lèchfaud”
I can barely feel my wounds anymore
The end of my torment
The hours spent consumed by worry
I’ve even found my smile again
I even have vision of the future
A touch of spring in the air . . .
In between — or maybe even during — an outdoor electronic set, on a gorgeous early September afternoon, I turned the camera back towards me.
I’ve spent a large portion of my life rushing from one thing to another. But as I inch my way towards 50, I’ve become a bit more reflective. Sometimes, while traveling or covering a show somewhere, I’ll think to myself “13-16 year-old Will, wouldn’t believe the things that 47 year old Will has seen and done.”
I thought of young Will a bit on this trip. 16-26 were very hard years. Looking back on it, sometimes wonder how I survived all of it. But I did. And if there was anyway that 47 year-old Will could meet 16 year old Will, I’d tell that boy some stories . . .
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