I had a sleepover with insomnia last night, so rather than lay in bed, we decided to do some work together and then catch an extra-early commuter train to Amsterdam. And as always, I ordered a cup of wakey-wakey to accompany my journey. As I’m waiting for the barista to hand me my cuppa, I hear beautiful piano music. I turn around to see this lovely man:
He played so beautifully, to the point that I plunked my elbows down on the milk and sugar counter and rested on folded hands. Cops stopped to watch, as well as pretty much any other commuter in the joint. We all stopped, even for a moment, to watch and listen. Little smiles crept across our sleepy faces.
Last week, I saw a boy around seven playing a Fats Domino tune on this same piano. His little curls bounced as he played, his bespectacled little face barely peeked over the top of the Baby Grand. Now that drew in a crowd.
I don’t know what I loved more: watching him play, or watching people watching him play.
Street musicians who play to create public joy: thank you for making the daily grind a little more beautiful.