My feet were now hurting from the burning sensation of the bricks on the road, which the sun had heated to an unimaginable temperature. It was midday, hence it made sense. On my way to the square I passed several small, but cosy restaurants filled with tourists like myself, with little kids, whose faces were covered in melted chocolate ice-cream. Probably because something much more interesting had suddenly caught their attention. The loud sounds of admiration along with the growl of the car engines barely allowed me to hear the music coming from the centre of the crowd. The people stood so closely to each other, it felt like I was peeking over the neighbour’s fence, to catch that one dispute, which the whole building could hear so well, but only one would be lucky to see.. but of course they had no intention of moving.
After a couple of tries and with the cost of my big toe I managed to secure a place closer to the performance. A young gentleman, wearing a white linen shirt, brown shoes and trousers, which you could see were bought a couple of years ago, was skillfully playing the guitar and singing at the top of his lungs without any concern for his beautiful voice. The way he held the instrument and slid his fingers on the frets, without the slightest uncertainty in his movements shook me right to my core. He carefreely and briskly plucked the strings, selectively going through a variety of strumming patterns with his long, filed nails while I stood there, trying to figure out how he managed to play so gracefully without breaking a single sweat on his forehead.
The rhythm picked up pace, closing his eyes, music flowed from his soul right to me and I instantly felt so close to him, as if I could touch his naked soul right at that moment. He didn’t stop, he lived through every second of the song and you could see it in the way his body perfectly complemented the performance. His shoulders were jumping up and down like the sun is going to burn through his skin. His feet – loudly stamped on every strong beat of the song, despite the flaming bricks. His head shook intact with the music, without missing a single pause.
The gentleman soon finished his performance and people started to leave, throwing coins and putting five to fifteen euro bills into his guitar case, which he in return gladly accepted with a nod and the most genuine smile. I myself – couldn’t move a muscle. Staring into his eyes I came to a realisation that his passion for music came beyond mere skill – it was something bigger, he gave a part of himself away with every single without the slightest hope for its return.
Soon there were only the two of us. The sun began to set and the streets – to quiet down. He slowly put his guitar into the leather case, picking up the unimpressive revenue of the day. I would be upset seeing this sum, but he seemed unbothered. He continued to hum the melody of his songs and enjoy the end day. I thought to myself “He must be happy, but why ?” He had been sitting there all day under the burning flames of the sun, sacrificing his time and energy to only get so much. Following the backs of uninterested and overly busy pedestrians with his sight, hoping to catch their attention. But I was foolish, he wasn’t there for the people, in fact he barely even noticed them (I could tell that by the astonished grimace on his face when he opened his eyes). He was only there for himself, himself and the music.