Hundreds of perfect strangers become best friends as they sing at the top of their lungs, united by the lyrics they paid to hear performed live. The bass pounds so hard they can feel it in their teeth; the lights sweep the crowd over and over. “Personal space” is an entirely forgotten concept as sweaty bodies press forward together in an attempt to get closer to the stage.
Unseparated by social class, gender, age, or race, the crowd moves as one. There are no longer individual attendees, instead the crowd is its own entity, an ocean swelling in time to the music. Fists in the air, feet stomping on the sticky floor, people passing above. A moment suspended in time.