The booth is a confessional, and I’m still learning to listen

I just wrapped a wedding in the Highlands — two hours of speeches, one crying bride, a groom who kept saying 'I don’t know why I’m doing this' between dances. I played 'Blackbird' on acoustic guitar for the first time live, and halfway through, I almost cried too. The booth isn’t just a place to play music; it’s where people confess things they’d never say aloud. I’ve heard more secrets in 12-hour shifts than I have in real conversations. Sometimes I wonder if I should be a therapist instead. But then someone starts dancing like no one’s watching, and I remember: this is about joy, not guilt.