Lyrically, I was clueless.

The melodic projections rang from the distant centre stage, insulated by a populace of French music admirers, converging from within Montreal and beyond; the performing artist seemed to be having a great time, charming his fellow Quebecois with both his stage presence, his instrumental prowess, upping the hype among live music-loving Montrealers at the FrancoFolies Festival.

If only I shared their euphoric extent of Francophilia – or grasp of the French language, on that matter. Just about the only bits I understood was the intermitted chorus of a guest-appearance duet, sung “fun fun fun fun, fun fun fun”.

I took sips of my beer; with every gulp, I thought less of the lyrics – and I emulsified with the enraptured crowd.

I felt my body swayed and bobbed, to the ground’s vibrations beneath my feet and that in my ears.

I pulsed to the rhythm of strobes, as though lit and extinguished in an alternate current.

I evaporated the barriers of miscommunication and linguistic ignorance, since better understanding of music requires these barriers breached.

I took part.

Behind the lens

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Francofolies on Place des Festivals, MontrealTo me, there’s something so sexy about light flares on photography. As a representation of strong sources of illumination and the way a proportion of infinite possibilities of the light distorts, it’s not just the sentiment that counts – the proportion of infinity may, by chance, result in sheer optical beauty.

But then, perhaps it’s because I’ve worn glasses practically all my life and that’s the way I see.

I placed the focal point on a distant object – or musician, in this case – and a small aperture to create an effect of the sea of heads, to accentuate the scale of Montreal’s favourite open-air festival spaces.