There is no denying it; I have post-concert jitters right after I hit home, Tuesday night. It’s surprising how things can just happen as compared to, as imagined, a magnificent blow-up of feelings during the event. We waited in the long, long queue, took our chairs, waited a bit more, and then had our hearts skip a beat when Ryota shows up on stage with his abs. The band didn’t give us any room to breathe; they started their Live in Manila journey all at once, shaking the whole dome with their loud, aggressive beats and Taka’s amazingly precious voice.
It was pretty basic and bare, but it left a wonderful dent, especially when the crowd charmingly responded to them and their songs, making them, somehow, feel as if they were back in their homeland (minus the heat). As for me, I will go back to the waiting lines meeting a kid named Joshua, who just got off from school and is strikingly similar to many Joshuas I know (haha, you guys have one form). I also meet Glory, who’s a Toruka stan (aren’t we all), and later, sat down with the noisiest bunch in the entire dome—up there at 221.
The types aren’t in full order, but each has a story. Shall we begin?
Mighty Long Fall
Wherever You Are