L'envoutant

C'était la semaine dernière, tard le soir.
Lyon centre, au Jazz Hot Club, une cave voûtée.
Concert de jazz vocal ; une chanteuse, un pianiste, un contrebassiste, un saxophoniste ténor et un batteur.
It was just..you know...so appropriate I just felt like I fitted here and nowhere else at this precise moment...I was there, seating close to Anaïs and watching that show.
I remember her telling me -"Hey that's amazing, the stage and the public do'nt seem to be parted off, it's more like a united stuff, no borders...just amazing."
And she was so right.
The singer sing great songs, some of my favorites, and here voice was warm, low, coming from a brilliant smile wich didn't fade.
And all along the saxophone was at her side, providing great solos as well.
The evening, the night passed without this place...public and stage were somewhere else...off of the time
That evening was such like a dream, a Lynch's sort of moment stolen from nowhere, that I had to draw it, to capture just an infinitesimal glimpse of it, to keep a proof, a memory...
And has I drew this picture I realized that sadness was there, in my drawing...I couldn't help it, it just appeared.
So I knew that the moment was past.
I've been bewitched, it's bitter-sweet.
Now it's gone, part of, now he is gone, almost.