She had a hard time pronouncing my name. “It’s Wilkine Brutus,” I told her. We’re at the Roots festival right now, lavishing in vitamin D, perusing through an eclectic community of music lovers and dancing, like an endless spiritual ceremony.
We were complete strangers. But it didn’t matter. Music is the world’s oldest religion and no one wants to break with tradition, or connection. We danced.
Everyone is capturing this tradition on their phones to immortalize their memories–a festival is a makeshift utopia, where strangers allow love to permeate everything and everyone.
That’s what I’ve learned so far. That was my lesson from 2015’s 7th annual Roots Festival.