Woodstock and the beginning

Joseph had become dirty with mud already the first day of the weekend. The road were muddy, and tiring of sitting jammed in the slow moving queue, he had took his bag and left his driving mate and walked with a third friend. The walk to the festival area had been long and slippery and his clogs hadn't given him the best balance. Since then, he hadn't the opportunity to clean up. The drinking water was holy, to precious to waste on cleaning clothes.

Food and drink had become scarce given that no one had thought that so many people would show up to the fair away placed festival. There were thousands of them, clad in loose fitting clothing, or barely nothing at all, with long hair and more often than not a smile on their faces. The atmosphere had been peaceful this far, happy and loving as a year of the sixties demanded, and no real harm had been done to no one. People laughed, shared joints and booze and sang.

Joseph's hair was long as well, and dark and curly. His skin tanned from all the summer days. His jeans' legs wide and his skinny, youthful smooth chest bare aside from his unbuttoned vest. His dark eyes almost hidden beneath eyelids. He had laid down in the grass, head resting on his up stretched arms. The group he belonged with shattering amongst themselves or did as he did. The night had been long, with the travel during the day and first concerts during the evening, the high spirits after it all. Tried to get some sort of rest before some of the most important acts during the whole festival later that night.

The guy, Joseph had forgotten his name if he even had presented himself, up at the stage he listened to vaguely. The guy reported important stuff - a doctor for a woman about to birth, that they shouldn't experiment with those and those acids and to she and he to call to mama.

Joseph untangled an arm from beneath his head to stretch for the butt of a cig that was given to him. Lazyingly sucking the stick, gazing with unseeing eyes to the for now blessed blue sky.

"Whoa, pretty them clogs you have on, cat", an unfamiliar jolly voice sounded near him. He blinked slowly, and when he could see again his view and changed from a blue sky to a young man with a big grin looking down at him.

His hair was long to, but light brown to Joseph dark brown, wavy to his curly, a big mouth to Joseph's more sculptured lips. But dark eyes, as his. "Almost tripped over them. Gimme some o' that?" The stranger asked, waving a hand with long fingers towards the remains of the cigarette Joseph hold still.

In silence still, Joseph reached to give it to the stranger, in the caring ways of the culture of Woodstock. "Peace man", he was thanked and the other young man sat down at his side, indian style.

"I'm Russell", the stranger introduced with another grin and he breathed out the smoke through his nose.

"Joseph."

Russell's boots had vanished mysteriously, but he didn't feel the coldness of the earth or of how much his feet should be hurting after being tramped on at the concert area. That was the magic of getting high - you only felt the nice, warm things.

He had an arm thrown around a blond girl's naked waist. They made large zigzag patterns through the mass of people heading back to the tents on the early Saturday morning.

"Those stars up there, girl, I'm gonna be like one of them one day", he tried to tell the girl leaning heavily against his skinny shoulder. He tried to shake her lightly, but she was to drunk and tired to with any more intelligent than grunts.

He steered them away from the path of a man walking in acid dreams, walking the last part back to his tent in quiet.

"Okay, girl, work with me now, hon'. Come in, get in here." He more or less pushed the half-sleeping girl inside of the tent, bending her knees up towards her chest so her feet would stick out. He, carefully as not to touch any part of her that could be read mistakingly in her state, placed a cover over her half naked body before removing her dirty shoes to throw them outside.

(TBC)