TWANG
He whirled the guitar around for the second time, but instead of smashing it, let it fly, sailing over the heads of the crowd until coming to land... somewhere. They left the stage, expecting rapturous applause. Silence. I love this Festival. We're not clapping until we know no-one's dead.
(C) Isabelle Adam Would you like to comment?Sign up for a free account, or sign in (if you're already a member). |
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