The air was still with anticipation and cold. Desperate voices, restless eyes, aimless hands, uneasy figures called for them in despair. But presently, they did not come.

The long wait finally came to pass and the stage shimmered. For once, it looked as if the light played tricks with us. Us, the worshipers. But no, it was for real. The darkness was now being lifted. The large screen began to split and reveal colors. Somewhere far, a lost sound began to emanate. And with Papercut it began.


Giant manned lights and cameras hung from the dark sky. The black floor vibrated with loose feet of mortals. The stage was engulfed in red fire. And inside that ring of redness, their machines flashed 'Lp' once in a while. Among those machines and the noise, they played. They played. They sang. They danced.

Almost every song a fan could think of. Could ask of. Could ask for. Every number was given. One by one. From each and every album. It was given.

They even plunged down in the crowd after an hour. We, the mortals, went crazy and trampled each other to get a sliver of their skin. I was this, this, this, far away from Chester. Two meters I would say. I couldn't even get near Shinoda. He was unreachable, untouchable.




 And so, that night, in Kansas City, MO, gods had appeared. Somewhere lost in the crowd, a nerd's childhood dream was realized. But so brief and yet eternal was their descent in this mortal world, that their coming was nothing but a fleeting dream.

I still can't believe that I saw them. That I heard them. Live.

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Current Book: "Lord of The Flies" by William Golding
Current Music: "Watercolour" by Pendulum.