Strawberry music festival was good this year. I dressed up my visiting cousin, Duncan, in a flower suit and we spent the day watching bands and taking photos.
An awesome hug got the journey off to a good start.
This hand-painted umbrella matched our suit, but there wasn’t a rainy cloud to be seen.
It was a sunny afternoon and many reached out to pet Duncan.
Argh ribbons! Duncan put in very dangerous choke hold of death.
We escaped and napped in the sun with Renzo.
Then Renzo made few non-food-related decisions.
We saw Pet Conspiracy. One singer sniffed the others’ crotch and rubbed panties on the mic. So, we left.
Then, we were approached by a taxi model.
And saw some great hats.
We also saw Q…
We bashed a guitar on the head of marketing staff for Tuborg (they weren’t selling beer).
We saw Re-TROS and these kids said they like Hip-Hop.
We couldn’t tell if this little sister was more into the flowers or the name of our weibo account.
Then this nearly happened:
“Holy shit. Will you marry me?”
“I’m Fine thank you, and you?”
But the fake Rays looked sharp at dusk.
And yeah kid, that was some good shit too.
We saw Deerhoof and the lights were pretty.
Peace. Thanks Strawberry.
In case you were wondering, the author of this post is not Jonathan Heeter. Not There guitarist, Nick Richards wrote it.