i made my way towards the streets, carrying along the instruments that are wrapped around my body. they belong(ed) to my father, and within them, his spirit. placing a black mat on the floor before me, i look up to see a couple of curious pedestrians.
i take a deep breath in to calm my nerves. i breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out
... b r e a t h e in ; b r e a t h e out ...
after a moment or two, i look up and through the waiting pedestrians. i am calm. the calm is me.
i play the instruments like it depends on my life to do so. creating a beautiful melody that releases simple particles of my father's souls. i know that my audience is transfixed. i know that because i am too. i can feel the music. i can feel it moving out from the depths of my soul to merge with my father's. i feel at home. i feel loved.
i finish playing after three minutes of strumming the guitar, blowing into the harmonica, beating the drum and shaking my anklet-tamborine.
i sit back down, careful not to damage anything. there's a brief silence before a senerade of clapping and mild cheering. i smile giddly and look up to see the crowd. some people place down their spare change onto the black mat. i am grateful. my blessings are exploding in their numbers.
i stand back up as the crowd disappears slowly. i start to secure the instruments around my body but i get interrupted by a stranger who taps me on the shoulder. i turn around, my eyes meeting the palest of blue eyes.
"here," the girl says, placing a hundred pound note on my hand. my cheeks turn a crinsom red. i am flustered.
"what for?" i ask, curious.
she doesn't reply but slips me a sheet of paper. then she proceeds to leave. and with a shock i realise what the sheet she placed before me is, a cheque of five hundred pounds, secured with a smaller sheet in which she wrote her number.
