This tour was so much more for us than any others we have embarked on. Of course it was exciting and fresh and frightening but it was also so familiar. We met people from other parts of the world who – despite our vastly different world experiences – were bound together by the common thread that only loud, wild rock shows can pull out into the light. Our curiosity and wonder spread from stage to floor and back over and over again in a dizzying frenzy. We weave together in and out of songs and notes and proclamations of love and suffering echoes of defeat humming through dive bars and concert halls. The sound of an electric guitar knows no language or cultural barriers in these spaces. The passion of song has no nationality or citizenship. We built small, momentary communities. Fleeting, temporary versions of our own herding pasture were sculpted around shallow stone walls with each brick having been placed decades, even centuries before our time. Every night villages were created before our own eyes and we knew what it was like to not own or music but to share in it equally and willingly with our sisters and brothers of this world.
On the flight back, we chased the sun across the scattered farm lands we met when we first arrived. A vast, unforgiving ocean separated us from home but somehow we were comforted in knowing that wherever “home” is, it just got quite a bit bigger. The tapestry we have crafted and the village we have raised is a little more than it was and far more beautiful for it.