once
I spent an entire saturday afternoon at an accordion festival.
accordions, everywhere. stacked lovingly on tables where the light seemed to hit them just right, with names as exotic and melodic as the sounds that came wheezing out of them all afternoon. big, beautiful accordions in the hands of women, men and children, all ages, all backgrounds, strolling and playing, and then some up on stages scattered throughout the park and then the rest of us dancing, or at the very least swaying, and smiling so much our cheeks hurt.
Once: I spent entire Sundays at Irish dance competitions where every round of dances was accompanied by a live keyboardist and accordionist duo, and I went home with cheery accordion music swirling interminably around the inside of my head.
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