The dogs are barking the cocks are cocking but we can weather the storm, da da da da daaa
There is music everywhere here. Dogs near and far – roosters wait till the morn. Even the cars on the cobble stone streets have a wonderful irregular rhythm. Reminds me that every snow flake is unique. It also reminds me, thank you Mr. Cage, that music is everywhere. We humans are not needed for its creation.
But we are here as is the wrinkled old man who walks the streets of San Miguel, short and bent over, shuffling six inches per two steps. He wears a baseball cap turned backwards, workout pants, sneakers, shirt and sweater —- same every day. He shuffles and occasionally sits in the jardin, but, he never stops singing this intense sad song within a confined high register. His expressive phrases are remarkably long and complex. He must have been trained at The University of Texas by Jeanne Sasaki. I can’t let myself move on without absorbing his every sound. Every day he sings the blues, shuffling and singing IS his life as it seems to me. He is in my opinion one of those very few (one in millions) who is one of a kind and typically, everyone ignores him or is amused by him. That’s the way of the “one in millions”, the one of a kind who sings his/her song without expectation. Sing your sad lovely song old man, not for yourself, not for anyone, just sing and let us mere mortals be moved and amazed at a god on earth, where gods can only be.
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