I didn't just watch him spin, I felt him spin. He exuded a particular aura behind the decks that I craved from a DJ. A rhythmic union between himself and the music that no one else could touch but him. Deep in the vast darkness of the deep playa all the wandered watching would want to be catapulted into that world but it was something sacred, something personal that was meant for just him and his own dimension of creation. You were invited but only so far as a spectator could go. Walking up to the doorstep but never really entering his house of beats. Just like there is room for only one soul in a body, his masterful creation of dark rhythmic bliss was meant for only him. That's why his beats were so special. The aura could never be tainted by the outside world. It was protected by his armour and as much as I wanted to rip the armour off, I knew only the chosen few would understand and respect his truth...
So I, along with the crowd below the dark skies felt the union between them both. The beats and the DJ. It was a divine gift I knew only few could master and I admired it almost to the point of envy. There was a loneliness to that union but not in a way that aches the soul. In a way that permeated what it meant to stand alone in this world with strength. There was no need for attention or want from the audience. That was never what he was there for. I knew by watching him mix, he had done this many times before and in many lifetimes. I relished in the way he shook his hand to the beats, the way he looked at the decks with a fierce concentration. No. This was not his first lifetime doing this. I sensed his soul was a constant beat that rippled through all of eternity and his only way of survival in physical form was this personal union and deliverance that we were all observing, experiencing. And so I watched him some more... And then I closed my eyes and felt him spin, felt him breathe, and felt him survive...
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