On the second day of spring, the night became colder than the previous one. Today the sea wanted to be the protagonist of waves and did not hesitate to blow its breeze. We sat for a few moments on the lawn, Amaia was parading next to us, on the Super Bock stage, her songs with that naive pain that is well installed in any heart. Teen. Stopping is sometimes as necessary as walking weaving from one stage to another. There are actions that demand of us a certain reverence, that we prepare ourselves adequately for them, and the one that followed was one of those cases.
Streamdressed in an outfit in honor of the golden age of disk —white gown and pants, open flared trousers— gave us a chameleon-like performance, reflecting a brilliantly restless career. For an hour she hopped from one station to another like someone playing in a stream, her left foot on one stone and her right foot on the other, waddling down the line, dragging us along with her.
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Source: Observadora
