It feels hard to convey to you what the music, the storylines, and the live shows of Ayreon truly mean to me. So I shall attempt to do just that: express that which seemingly cannot be fully expressed. I am going to weave diary-style memories, existential reflections, deeply heartfelt emotions, some contemplative insights … you know, the usual suspects. :-)

For context: I am currently on a night train, in the morning, with red eyes from the inconvenient sleeping arrangement of a small almost-Japanese-style sleeper capsule, conveniently listening to the 34-minute track “First Light” by the progressive rock band Shadow Gallery (to be fair and accurate, the song contains 5 minutes of utter silence starting around the 23′ mark, which yet makes it no less epic and beautiful). The accumulated lack of sleep – and the fact that the train personnel must have forgotten about bringing me breakfast with at least some semblance of coffee – doesn’t make for a particularly good arrangement to scratch my memories together into coherent articulations. But then, what better time could there be?

Let’s let this one be raw and unpolished, and discover the always-already-inherent beauty in it.

My thoughts trail off to a group of three Mexicans whom I have first met just two days ago – hard to believe it hasn’t been longer! – on the Ayreon campsite in Tilburg, who turned out to be my campsite tent neighbours. And to the other campsite tent neighbour from the Netherlands, who had gifted me with more than just lending me his hammer to drive my tent hooks into the soil. And to my other campsite almost-neighbours, a Polish-German family of a mother and two daughters who had enjoyed this musical trip to Tilburg a.k.a. “Ayreon City” together. And back to the coffee and breakfast that never comes, and my approaching stop in Linz. Oh my goodness, I need to pack up!

(… to be continued here …)