Lonely Spring

In the organizer's words:

It is what it is till it is what it isn't!
Time leaves its mark and even if it heals all wounds, the scars remain. Too much has happened and too much has already been experienced. Too much has been seen and too many have gone. Too much risked and too much lost. Life is black cigarette smoke in the innocent, unsuspecting lungs of youth and naivety. The head is numbed by the intoxication of the many lights of passing moments and the heart ignorantly serves as an ashtray for the frail souls of those brave enough to love. You wander through the night and the city and everything feels a little strange. As soon as you look around these streets like war trenches, memories pop into your head, wrapped in sweet melancholy. No matter where your thoughts take you, they don't lead you anywhere. You long for a moment to emerge from the maelstrom that hurls you through life, a brief respite, even if it changes nothing. So you walk down the stairs into a glittering vault and realize how you can force sadness to be absent for just one night. So you place yourself in the middle of the action, becoming one with the euphoria that surrounds you and you dance. You just want to dance. That's the spirit that drives LONELY SPRING. LONELY SPRING don't want to offer absolute solutions to all the questions that plague them and their audience, but they do offer the misfits out there a momentum in which they can recharge their batteries together for a short time.