That’s when I saw her.
A bearded guy with a harmonica around his neck stopped playing and watched. A pregnant woman in a tie-dye dress put her hand over her mouth. No one spoke. No one tried to help or stop her. aconteceu em woodstock
She stood up, wiped her hands on her thighs, and walked away toward the row of VW buses parked on the hill. No one followed her. No one asked her name. That’s when I saw her
I never saw the girl again. But I’ve thought about her every time I’ve heard someone say that Woodstock was about the music, or the drugs, or the free love. No one spoke
She couldn’t have been more than nineteen. Long brown hair matted with straw. Barefoot, because her sandals had dissolved into the mud two days ago. She was walking slowly through the sludge, carrying a small bundle wrapped in a yellow raincoat.