I am a timid person.

Sneak, sneak, sneak, sneak.

Sneak, sneak, sneak, sneak, sneak, sneak. Sneak, sneak, sneak.

Here.

I like to sneak around.
After all, I am writing this note in secret from everyone.

There are many kind people on note,
and there are many people on note who write things that capture the heart.

I secretly read and enjoy those people.

Among those, you know, those experts, I get nervous. I sometimes need courage just to write a comment.
I am not this shy in my real life, though.
I have such strong admiration for the people on note that I somehow get nervous. They are just too expert.
Since I have never experienced meeting people through writing first, I am constantly nervous.

This time, the timing to come here has arrived.

I decide to take the plunge and wander into here.

--♪


I went to an outdoor music festival just the other day.
My music-loving family aims to participate in two or three festivals every year. Although I have been exhausted by the recent extreme heat, I am relatively strong against the heat. After all, I am used to festivals. I won't let the heat beat me!
My husband and I, who agree that "music > heat," headed to the venue this year with our elementary school boys, of course with perfect countermeasures.

As we were walking from the parking lot to the venue, there was a woman with her midriff exposed in front of me, and I got nervous. Sorry, I can't help but look. Because there was a slender waist right in front of me!
A woman who can expose her waist in this heat and this UV radiation is wonderful.

This heat is dangerous. For one's physical condition and for one's skin.
Even with perfect countermeasures, I get sunburned. My face is a mess from sweat. There is no wind today.
My husband and I went to festivals before we were married, but I wonder if we could have gone on dates if I had been this much of a mess. I would be embarrassed for the me from over 10 years ago. Now, I am not embarrassed at all.
It wasn't this hot back then, either. And I didn't expose my midriff back then, either. That would be embarrassing.


I am a timid person, but I do spin my towel.
I am the type of person who spins a towel. With an artist in front of me, playing music live, is there any way I wouldn't spin my towel? There is no way, so I thrust my fist, or my fist holding a towel, into the air and spun it around this time too.

Of course, I don't spin a towel in the middle of the city.
At most, it's when I absolutely need to dry a wet towel right away, or when I was in elementary school and would turn the school faucet upward to release water and spin it around, calling it a "fan."

It is something I would never do normally, but
the sense of openness at a festival makes me do it.

In the midst of the imbalance between the harsh sunlight and the gentle breeze, my arm is cutting through the air.

Even when there is no one near the tent and I am alone,
or at the very top of the stairs at the back of the venue.
Whether someone is there or I am alone, I spin the towel.
Listening to music with the Tower of the Sun (I love it, as I have said many times) in the background is the best.

When it got dark, my husband and the boys headed to a different venue (festivals have several venues, and each location is a little far apart), so in the end, I was watching standing at the very top of these stairs alone. Holding up my towel.
It was dark, and thinking no one could see me, I was swaying and grooving while spinning my towel in one hand. This is the kind of thing that would be embarrassing if an acquaintance saw it.


The aftereffects of the spinning come suddenly.
My arm started to get hot. Here it comes.
Even though it happens every time, why do I get a slight muscle ache every time? Perhaps the muscles in my arm are continuing to increase in mass. Should I write "towel art" as a special skill? If I get muscular, I will have someone arm-wrestle me.




It is a story about a music festival, but I am not talking about music.

#WhatAreYouTalkingAbout