I just stumbled upon Moby’s V2000 set on YouTube, and suddenly, I’m back there—my first festival, standing in the long stretch of late-summer sunlight, the air thick with warmth and possibility. It’s strange, how sound can collapse time, how nostalgia isn’t just longing but a full-body transport.
I think about that festival often because it was the first time I felt music inside my body—the way it moved beneath my feet, the way the air itself seemed charged with sound.
