hearts have colors, don't we all know?

We stood shoulder to shoulder with strangers and waited for an encore. People pulled out iPhones and cameras to capture a rare arrangement on film. I reached for my back pocket to follow suit, but returned my arm to its folded position across my chest. In this world of everything at our fingertips, there is something beautiful about impermanence. Something almost transcendental in fleeting moments. Knowing that the few hundred of us in that spot were the only people who would witness the way she decided to edit on-the-spot, lengthening some notes here and there was, in the moment, magnificent. She added an extra verse we'd never heard before and raised certain notes up an octave. I wanted it all to sink in. I'd leave the YouTube posting to those who felt it necessary. We clapped and whistled and then it was over. The crowd scattered, shoulders leaving shoulders, breaking out into the cold night.