After the euphoria of the nights before the drear of reality started to hit the people hard.
The party was over.
Somehow the rucksacks seemed impossible to pack.
The combination of fatigue, hangover, and rain was a powerful depressant.
Looking around, the last remaining tents seemed to be marooned in an ocean of junk. Discernible, were discarded cans of Coke, empty water bottles, mountains of cigarette butts, the odd comatose drunk.
How could a festival of free music, free love, free speech, free joints have been reduced to this desolation?
There are those of us who were there at the beginning and left early.
Our dreams and our illusions are kept intact. We were going to change the world. We have changed the world. We are living in our world. We are living in our world for ever.
There are those who were there and who realise that we were never really free.
Our dreams and our illusions keep us sane. We never change the world. We have never changed the world. We are living in our world. We are living in our world for ever.
There are those were never invited.
Our dreams and illusions mean nothing to them. They know that we never change the world. We have never changed the world. We are living, we are just about living in our world. We are living in our world for ever.
For ever is a short time.
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