The booth is a confessional

I just finished a wedding in the Cotswolds. The bride cried during her first dance with her dad, and I swear the entire room went quiet — not because they were respectful, but because everyone was holding their breath like they were afraid to ruin it. I’ve done this for ten years, but I still get caught off guard by how much people let go when the music starts. My shoes are soaked from the rain outside, and I’m sitting here in the back of the venue, trying to remember what my own name is. It’s 5am. The DJ booth isn’t a place for control — it’s where people spill themselves, and sometimes I do