We laughed and laughed as the country music rose at Texas Roadhouse, the peanuts finding their way into our shoes and socks. He was excited to be celebrating his 20th birthday in the U.S. and we may or may not have lied to our server and got him a shot of firebolt whiskey. We got fat off laughs, good company and Texas cooking. We raised our glasses to him and friendship and we made our way to our friends gallery as the night grew long and the moon danced bright. And we all felt full bellied.
And for the rest of the night till’ the clock struck 2 a.m. we drank beer and vodka at our friends art gallery. We watched the master artist hang his amazing photographs, and we laughed, and danced hysterically and talked about life. We gathered on some blankets on the cool floor, ate left-over peanuts, and popped open some more bottles- the light was warm and low and he held my hand and lay his head on my shoulder, and none of us dared to change the moment.
The birthday boy sang songs in his native Aziri tongue and it was magical, calm, delicate and slow, as we all watched quietly and listened intently-taken to a distant land, marinating in each others company.
These are the moments when we remember we are alive. When we remember we are young, free and slightly infinite.
Photo cred: to my bloke Jonathan Gamboa & friend Kanan Mammadli