In a Yahoo forum, the text was in German, but Camilla happened to know a bit of German. Although she wasn't as fluent as she was in Spanish and Italian, she could still grasp the general meaning, despite some hiccups.
Simply put, it was a reply to a post.
The poster saw a discussion about a band performing at Berlin's Alexanderplatz. He mentioned how much he loved it, not only buying the band's album but also digging deeper into their other performances, which led to an unexpected discovery—
The band had a website that fully documented their street performances across Europe.
The link in the post was to that website.
Camilla, excited, clicked the link immediately.
A beat too late, she became wary. What if it was a phishing or virus site? Why hadn't she been more cautious?
But now, the site was already loading, and it seemed too late for regrets.
Slowly, very slowly, the page began to load before her eyes.
It was real.
Not a trojan or scam website, but the actual official site of the band—
On August 31st, the "Midnight in Summer" tour across Europe was mapped out.
The website's page was a map of Europe, and the background showed a sunset, where day and night met at the horizon of an endless ocean, painted with radiant hues of blue and red, filling the world with a burning glow—
Blazing intensely.
On the map of Europe, cities were connected like stars, with both familiar large cities and unknown small towns linked together. It was clear from the lines that the band was—
Singing as they traveled.
The band didn't follow a clear plan. It wasn't so much a concert tour as it was a road trip, moving along, enjoying the journey's sights.
When hovering the mouse over a city, a video box would pop up, showcasing the band's performance in that city.
The first stop: Oslo.
Curious, Camilla clicked on it and saw a video with modest quality and unprofessional camera angles. She immediately realized that this must have been filmed by the band themselves, documenting their summer journey.
Just now, in the subway station, Camilla vaguely remembered seeing the band with a portable camera; did they have one during the café performance?
She couldn't recall clearly because her memory of the rest of the day was fuzzy.
At this moment, Paris' landmarks remained dark, not yet lit.
Camilla began watching the street performance videos, one after another. She initially thought she'd watch just one or two but found she couldn't stop—
It wasn't just about the street performances. The videos also captured snippets of their daily life, casually and fragmentedly documenting the band's road trip.
Finally, Camilla understood why the forum poster had given it a "five-star recommendation."
Twenty years later, the internet had evolved through several generations, from text blogs to social networks, video blogs, and finally short video snippets that permeated everyday life—
Overexposure had become a new subject in the digital world.
But back then, this kind of content was new and even pioneering.
Far from overexposure, there was still a strong air of mystery. People knew almost nothing about the world behind the stage, behind the movies, or beyond the spotlight. Artists remained distant, high above the crowd. That's why Anson's decision to show his real side sparked so much discussion at the time.
Now, this little website had gotten ahead of reality shows, showing glimpses of life and what lay beyond the stage.
It was real, intimate, and ordinary.
A mere three- to five-minute video would record a slice of life, yet these small moments unknowingly revealed the most natural, authentic sides of the band.
Not superstar icons shining on stage, but a group of young people chasing their dreams.
And along the way, Camilla could feel their hardships.
It wasn't all applause and adoration; far from it. Being overlooked was more often the norm. An entire afternoon's performance might attract only two or three people.
Yet they still played with enthusiasm and passion, fueled by nothing but a burning desire to keep going.
In fact, it wasn't just the street performances—the website's videos had equally low views—
Camilla knew this firsthand. After searching around the web, she still couldn't find the site on her own and only found the link through the forum post.
Like Alice falling down the rabbit hole.
This website was quietly hidden in the vast sea of the internet, yet it sparkled like the treasure of Atlantis, waiting for the right person to discover it.
Camilla's blood began to boil once again.
Video after video, she couldn't stop watching.
City after city, she watched as the band progressed—from novices to seasoned performers, from struggling to even more struggling—always carrying with them a sense of curiosity and adventure, singing their way through life and transforming their dreams into reality, all while keeping their youthful energy alive.
Through these videos, when Camilla thought back to the performance she saw that afternoon, the band members' images began to overlap with the real people she was seeing on the screen. Those everyday, seemingly trivial fragments of life gradually outlined the personalities of each band member, bringing them to life.
Camilla felt as if they had become her friends.
Friends she'd known for a long, long time.
At first, Camilla just wanted to confirm if this Anson was the same Anson; but slowly, that question no longer mattered, and she completely forgot her initial purpose.
Silently, she became fully immersed, traveling and adventuring with them.
Of course, the journey wasn't all smooth sailing. There were arguments and rifts between the band members, conflicts that even affected their performances. There were moments of bitterness, disappointment, confusion, and struggle—
Standing on empty streets, getting soaked in the rain mid-performance, traveling with no sign of hope in sight, singing passionately only to feel like they were singing alone, finishing a show with no audience, and feeling too exhausted to even speak.
All of this was real. Their struggles and worries were real, but they never gave up. They kept moving forward.
What struck her most was—
After finishing a street performance in a small town, where an entire afternoon of playing only attracted three people—two of whom were a mother and her three-year-old child who watched them with curious eyes, as if observing clowns.
They argued—whether it was worth performing in such small towns. In the end, the four band members stopped speaking to one another.
The next day, they all overslept, rushing frantically to catch their train. The cumbersome cello required all four of them to work together, silently helping one another without saying a word, even without a glance.
They sprinted, drenched in sweat. The camera couldn't capture their faces, just the blurred, hurried footage of their race.
They made it to the train just in time, out of breath and sweaty, standing in the connection between train cars. The camera still didn't focus on any of them, but you could hear their joyous laughter in the audio, echoing over the clatter of the train tracks.
At that moment, all the conflicts no longer mattered.
This was youth.