It´s a strange guy there, could make you feel anxious, that raw, hardly shaved mug. Pulling his cigarette with quite a routine, inhaling deeply the SMOKE as he tells his story with a sore voice. Kinda like in the movies, but the first impression is not convincing, seems like we have here a fucked up looser who couldn´t cope with the SYSTEM, one of those who tried and didn´t make it. One of those who swallowed hate and smoke his whole life. But just let him talk. Listen to him for a while, you´ll notice, there´s more about him than he might reveal. Sure, he´s a suspicious type o´guy, same as you and me. But the way he´s talking, it´s got something – how´d you say? – sincere, yes man, this guy has got HEART. You almost didn´t notice. His good side is hidden under a mask of cynism, like you wonder: has he got enough of that big-city-life? Does he wish to be far away, at some quiet and silent place to breathe some fresh air? Or has he made his own way through the concrete jungle? Maybe both of it. His left eye twitches slightly, as if he is concealing a detail... He begins to talk about MUSIC. There ain´t nothin´ goin´ on in this city, he utters, few concerts, few audience, ´t was different once. Not one of those Good-Old-Days-nerds? Oh wait, there´s one band, he says more exitedly, they´re really good, yes, Ma´am, they really rock the stage, kind of a metal-thing, but not the kinda super-evil, no no, it´s more of a punk- or rock´n´roll-attitude, don´t know, it´s hard to say. But I tell you, these four guys really rock the party on stage. They let an old fart like me feel like I was twenty again, yes, man, they got it going... “How´s that band called,” you want to know. “How it´s called, man?? WICKED KEMAO, man, remember the name, WICKED KEMAO!” You scratch your chin and ask what it means, Wicked Kemao. The guy pulls meaningful his fag end. “Look at me and you will know...”
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