Thursday, 27 October 2011

Liberation Day

The band is playing nearby the seashore, along the edges of the beach boulevard. The music seems to dissolve in the wavy gusts of the ocean breeze, as if it was a vague reminder that once upon a war, there were indeed moments of youthful joy.

A small group of veterans and a handful of elderly widows are their only public. With their neatly pressed uniforms and their polished medals, the men salute each other with reverence; and then, politely, they greet the widows, delicately kissing their hands.

The widows nod graciously at the gentlemen’s gesture; and then continue waving their colourful hand-held fans. In their time, this was a sign that meant that they were available, at least for one frugal dance. The musicians notice the elegant courting and the timid flirting and decide to speed up the piece and improvise. Hand in hand, cheek-to-cheek, the veterans and the widows flow with the music, smiling to the roar of vintage airplanes, which travel with the jazzy notes across the cloudless blue sky.

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