Liberty Hall in Lawrence, Kansas, was not what I had expected. I can't say what I'd imagined, but the murals of planets and angels playing on guitars and violins had not been part of the picture. Our seats were in the last row, among the stars practically, and my head was up there too, swimming in another galaxy, my thoughts light and surreal. When Jónsi came out, he possessed the only light, the rest of the theater awash in darkness. No one moved, and no one made a sound as he plucked out this song on his guitar. I remained paralyzed in my seat, certain that my physical being no longer existed, until I felt my eyes getting wet and remembered to breathe.
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