Rihanna, Rihanna, Rihanna!
I know I'm still pretty young but you can't convince me otherwise: Sunday, 13 October, was the best night of my life. The nights I watched one season of Supernatural in one sitting, got my high school rights of passage, tasted lemon meringue - they have nothing on this. Dramatic as it may be: I walked out of FNB Stadium a changed person.
And, ohmygod, I had so much in common with mah bad guurrl Riri that night: we were both in FNB Stadium, we were both singing, we both felt like Rihanna (except she gets to enjoy that all the time) and we were both wearing black lipstick. We're obviously soul mates. It's just going to take Robyn sometime to realise, you feel me? But she will. Oh, she will.
I was so upset to wake up Monday morning to read some of the tweets concert goers were posting. I feel like some people just went there to insult her. It's a well known fact that Rihanna's not a strong singer and, yes, she may have rolled the biggest fatty beforehand (but she's Rihanna for crying out loud), but that doesn't change the fact that she is an amazing and successful performer, she didn't take single break and only idiot or an extremely old person wouldn't have enjoyed the show. There seems to be this growing culture of resentment of success in South Africa.
On a better note: I felt colours that night and loving Rihanna was an aurora of everything beautiful. I was with some of my best friends, I ran into some great people, my knee will probably never be the same because I danced so damn hard. I don't know how to properly capture what euphoria Sunday night was. Maybe in some creepy abstract painting or singing Rihanna songs for the rest of the week or both.
I'm so sorry that all of these photos are of such low quality: I didn't want to bring my camera or attempt to sneak it in because stadium security is a mad cow and I would end up spending the whole night recording everyone else have fun and not have any real fun of my own.