Not sure who you are?

So, Edith de France drags me to the rehearsals again. This time cajon man doesn't show up. There is a loud shared silence amongst the singers. And they are off..........suddenly, I am in the middle of a semi circle of singers and guitarists in full song. My eardrums are buzzing and my ribcage vibrating like the skin of a drum. This is a totally new experience...to be on a stage in the middle of a performance. The connection and energy flowing between everybody is astonishing. It feels like a deep, reborn, tribal thing.
One of the male guitarists breaks into a gutteral song. His eyes shut and his fingers grasp invisible birds flying by. The ladies giggle softly but they cannot move their eyes.

The woman in charge of the choir announces...
"It's the real deal tomorrow, everybody. Ladies...the matching flowers to be placed exactly in the centre of your hair . Check your earrings"
She is wearing Dick Whittington leather thigh boots, as are all the ladies in the village now.

Edith de France is trying to cure me of agoraphobia or give me a heart attack. I'm not sure which. Magic night.