The Frog who found Techno. – By @bastien52530427

By Bastien Chazalette Zaco

The Frog who found Techno.


I looked at myself in the pond. Not bad, I thought. My skin was a gorgeous shade of verde from the roasting summer sun, kept supple by my regular time spent in the water. 

I’d miss this place. 

The gentle lap of the waters edge, the engorged lily pads that had accommodated me for the laziest of days, the bliss of a long French summer. 


But Autumn had been creeping in with her warm tonal palette and I knew it was time to go. 

The little I was able to carry was packed in a knapsack and my headphones were draped around my neck. The pond which I had become so beautifully accustomed to, was to limiting for now. 


A young French frog with a dream. And love of techno. 


Hopping away from my home and into the grey murky waters of the English Channel, I found myself accidentally holding my breath in anticipation of the journeys to come next. The water below was foreboding and churned at odds with the pulse of my music. 


Who would I find? Who would make sweet sweet advertising with me? 


One cannot help but live in the realm of possibility when journeying in stormy weather. The fear I felt from the scale of the waves also added a romanticism to the experience and I was sure that if only I turned my head fast enough, I’d catch a film crew lurking amongst the hull of the ship, and this was all a set up. A amphibian version of the Truman Show. 


But no such people were to be found. 


As the white cliffs of Dover creeped over the horizon, I tossed my beret gayly overboard. The maroon was quickly swallowed and sunk and I felt a strong wind skim the top of my head. I turned up the volume on my headphones. 


The land of the free or the land of the imbeciles? Hard to decide, when both are too frequently entwined. The food would be worse, for sure, but compared to my native and habitat of Lyon at least the people may crack a smile every once in a while. 


They say there is no formula or pre-requisites to being a Londoner. I was curious to discover wether that would ring true but to double my chances I bought a bobble head of the queen just to cement in my own mind, that I was shedding France like a snake that has grown to ambitious for it’s natural skin. 


It is a most conflicting feeling to be saying Goodbye and Hello to something all at once. 


As the train pulled into Brixton, I heard something. 


At first a gentle thud thud thud and then it grew louder like a heartbeat. I followed the sound and found myself in a converted Church with a room full of other, equally puzzled beings. 

The man at the front turned down the dial on the speakers and over the next few months, turned up the rhythm in our chests. And I thought, wow- this may be pretty techno after all.

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