A story on how artists find a way into our lives to forever remind us of what is important and fun. Love. Kindness. A story on our Prince and Purple Rain.
I was ten years old or something when my brother was pretty tipsy on his birthday party and it was only after all the guests had left that he lifted me up on his shoulders, holding on to my ankles (you know the drill), and danced with me. Danced by himself with myself attached to him, basically. Purple Rain was the song he, so passionately, sang along to. On repeat and I so loved it.
He kept on telling me stories, love stories, best friends stories, while singing and slow motion dancing.
Years later, I knew what sorrow in love (any kind of love) tasted like and some more years later (hey mum!) what tipsy felt like and what the combination of these two can do to you on Purple Rain. When memories kick in and dreams drum all over.
I remember of loving my brother so much, that I would not only force him to take me to all of his parties, but I would, also, not go to sleep anywhere in the house but his room (our room), with him and his music in it. Prince was there to help him put me to sleep. His friends are my friends, you know. I used to grip one of his foot, just like a little monkey would, and he, literally, dragged me, attached to him, through the house, that’s how much I loved him, as a kid. Imagine! Him and fun! His face reading this must be fun.
Later on – teenage on – Cream was on and my then boyfriend tried to turn me on. Stripteasing. Jees, what am I saying here? And I am so sober.
But you see?
This is what music does to us.
It’s the soundtrack of our lives.
A day comes and your mind just won’t stop and nothing feels right, but when The Most Beautiful Girl In The World starts in your headphones, you can, actually, feel the sunshine on your skin, your hair breathing and your lips softly smiling. I’m sure it works for men, too. You must think your crush is the most beautiful girl in the world. You. Us.
It is something about this. It’s clean. Natural. Genuine. Kind. In an era when most seem to pretend, very few just refuse to and this is how we fall in love with love all over again and again. And again.
I am no good with disappearings, it impresses me too much, it feels like words are too small and everybody says things when all I feel is just shut up. Or write, it seems. But when surpassing the overwhelming grief, on some sort of level deep inside somewhere, all we, really, want to do is honour the marvellous human being, hold our loved ones real tight, sing, create memories and watch this little Prince bathing in the rain forever.
Start to love the rain.