Camilla couldn't help but think that if there were a film crew following the band, documenting the journey like a documentary, it would be captivating and exciting to watch.
But then again, it might not feel as real. Perhaps it was better this way—simple, raw, full of surprises, with the journey itself revealing their true selves.
The imperfections, in a way, became the most beautiful part of this story.
Without realizing it, Camilla had become deeply immersed, crying and laughing along with the band, feeling their confusion and loss, running and wandering with them, and basking in the sweat of their youth.
So, does it really matter if this Anson is the Anson Wood?
Of course not.
But then again, maybe it does matter in a way. After all, it's hard to ignore.
Camilla never imagined that Anson had this side to him. Even after achieving so much success in film, he was still willing to perform on street corners, where no one knew him. And not just once or twice, but city after city, consistently.
If people didn't recognize him, he wouldn't mention it. If they did, he would casually confirm it and then return to the performance.
It was hard to believe. No promotion across the whole of Europe, and the band's records and tour website were hidden in the vast sea of the internet.
But Anson didn't care. He genuinely didn't care. Stripped of all the glamour, he simply set off on this journey.
Free. Unrestrained. Focused. Passionate. Sincere.
And immensely talented.
His character, his presence, his smile—all surpassed his physical appearance, revealing a bright, unique soul.
A pretty face?
If anyone still believed Anson was just a pretty face, Camilla wouldn't argue. She would pity them for their narrow-mindedness and bias. They were like frogs at the bottom of a well, trapped in their ignorance, missing out on the chance to hear the voice of youth.
Anson deserved better.
As Camilla looked at Anson again, he was still the same Anson, yet not the blurry image she had once imagined.
She cried for Anson's youth, rejoiced for his talent, and cheered for his freedom and spirit.
And then, those melodies, those songs, came to life.
A rush of emotion surged within her. Overwhelmed by the impulse, Camilla quickly hit pause and rummaged through her canvas bag for the record.
Though she had watched the performances in the subway and on the streets and bought two albums, she hadn't really examined them.
Until now.
An intense urge took over. She wanted to explore the album seriously.
The cover immediately caught her attention.
A deep blue, clear and radiant, mysterious and brilliant. It wasn't just any blue; it was the blue moment right before dawn, between the dark of night and the fiery red of sunrise.
Silent and distant.
At that moment, you could feel the tranquility of the night and the explosive power of the sunrise, experiencing life's pulse between silence and noise.
"Midsummer. Midnight."
In the lower left corner, the album title was written in subtle font, symmetrically balanced by the band's name in the right corner.
"August Thirty-First."
If you weren't paying close attention, you might wonder whether that was the band's name or the album's release date.
A little confusing, but from another angle, it felt like a playful joke.
Camilla couldn't help but smile.
She turned the album over to see the back cover. Golden sunlight spilled down, dazzling and brilliant, illuminating the shimmering ocean. It was breathtaking.
Camilla paused: was this normal?
Logically, shouldn't the front cover depict the sun and the back cover the night? But now it was reversed.
Upon closer inspection, she noticed a small boat floating on the vast ocean. Wait, there was something on the boat.
Was that... a cello, guitar, bass, keyboard, and a broken drum kit?
Oh, my God!
Camilla gasped. It looked simple, but there were hidden details.
Did this mean the front cover also had a hidden meaning?
Camilla opened a drawer, found a magnifying glass, and searched carefully. Sure enough—
The dawn-blue scene on the cover was shot from a mountaintop, and in the lower half, faint outlines of instruments could be seen in the dark.
No band members, just the instruments arranged as if in a music store—cellos, guitars, basses, and keyboards, but no drum kit.
The drum kit was three steps away on the right, discarded alone. Upon closer inspection, there was also a violin, a trombone, and other various instruments.
Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
Camilla's excitement grew bit by bit. This band was truly a treasure trove, with surprises hidden in every corner.
In Camilla's eyes, the band's lineup was unique, clearly different from any other band out there. She had noticed during the performance that there didn't seem to be any drums. Now, thinking back, the band had always been using different strategies to create drum beats.
Judging by the cover and back cover, the band's lineup wasn't fixed. Perhaps they used different instruments for different songs, unwilling to limit themselves.
It seemed like every member was a treasure.
Just realizing this made Camilla even more excited. She had never wanted to explore an entire album so thoroughly before.
Not a single song could be skipped.
She flipped the album back to the cover. In the bottom left corner, the song titles were listed in deep blue font, nestled among the waves.
Looking closely, she realized the song titles were handwritten, a bit messy, but full of the same carefree spirit as the owner of the handwriting—
For some reason, Camilla felt like it must be Anson's handwriting.
Of course, that was just a guess, a fanciful thought. The handwriting could belong to anyone, even someone outside the band.
Camilla realized she had unknowingly become biased, seeing Anson through a special lens. Her cheeks flushed slightly.
She took a deep breath, calmed down, and let her eyes move down the song list.
"1. Wake Me Up
2. Babel
3. Dirty Paws
4. Apologize
5. Ho Hey
6. Hero
7. Viva La Vida
8. Around the World
9. Oceans Away
10. Wake Me Up When September Ends"
Ten full songs.
From the tracklist alone, Camilla realized this was a complete album. From its concept to its creation, it flowed seamlessly. The inspiration was clear—not only did the first and last songs echo each other, but the emotional progression of the track order could also be felt.
Wow.
The exclamation escaped her lips before she could stop it. She hadn't even opened the album yet, and just scanning the song list had her excitement soaring.
Is this normal?
Do others get this excited when they see the tracklist of their favorite band's album?
For Camilla, it was unfamiliar, but strangely, she didn't dislike it.
More than that—she liked the feeling.