I never saw the girl again. But I’ve thought about her every time I’ve heard someone say that Woodstock was about the music, or the drugs, or the free love.
She stood up, wiped her hands on her thighs, and walked away toward the row of VW buses parked on the hill. No one followed her. No one asked her name. aconteceu em woodstock
The bird stayed there all day. By afternoon, someone had placed a daisy in its beak. By evening, the sun broke through the clouds for the first time in forty-eight hours. The mud began to harden. I never saw the girl again
The Mud Angel