
An elfin-like girl perches on a chair, slicing her bow expertly across the strings as she winks and smiles at the dreadlocked guitarist. He’s the kind of man I can’t imagine ever not being topless. The singer sways with stoned, sparkling eyes, and the crowd dances wildly to the klezmer mix.
I sit to the side, entranced by the joyous scene, tapping my feet out of synch with the music. Mind patterns from the past creep in – why can’t I play an instrument? I wish I had that talent. I wish I were gorgeous. I wish I were cool. Why can’t I let go? I want to be confident and content like them – the types of thoughts that send one into a black hole of tangled envy and self-depreciation with the repeated mantra ‘not good enough, not good enough’. Read more