Friday, October 4, 2019

In the next town over, in the center of town, I hear music from behind a pillar to my left. Walking around it, I see a man with an electronic keyboard playing something soft, somewhat like jazz. Handwritten signs say "Official organist," "Welcoming committee," and "I am organic." A block further down, a man sits on a bench by the curb brandishing a violin bow. When someone notices him, he lifts the violin and plays a few bars of something Eastern European, but then puts it back down. Outside the mall at the other end of the bus lines, the man who usually plays amplified banjo is also playing violin, riffing on American folk tunes. Occasionally people notice and toss coins in his case. He nods and keeps playing. His smile says that he's found his place in the universe.