artists and armpits

‘Watched another presentation of the French Spring in Manila Fest at the Republic of Malate last night, a mélange of abstract dance forms, light acrobatics, and comic acts. These French artists always have this distinct I-don’t-care-what-you-think-of-my-art air that works well with their haughty, almost raw artistry. The music was provided by an ensemble of bongo players, percussionists, and an accordion player with a beret. So typically campagnard. ‘Reminded me of virtousic musicians at the Metro asking for a few coins, spicing an otherwise boring trip through dark tunnels and stinky train stations that looked like oversized bathrooms. If we only had such musicians in our trains here, then smelling the stench of other passengers’ armpits would be more bearable.