There is man that plays most days at this bus stop next to Adorn on his keyboard. When you pass him you can hear him flying over the keys. A friend of mine once told me he passed him once and heard the complex music coming from his direction only to look over and see that he was playing with one hand and turning the page of a book with the other. Someone else noticed his grace and gift he was giving to a corner of our town and wanted to express gratitude. This is what they did below:
A slight September chill was in the air on a recent Tuesday morning when at some point between the hours of eight and nine, a young man dressed, quite simply, unassumingly entered this bus stop and silently sat down. Facing the flat beige walls of the Wells Fargo building where men in suits toting briefcases in their hands and numbers in their minds entered. He pulled out his keyboard and he began to play. He played as if he was following a flow within him that simply could not be denied - his own flow - straight from his very center - an act that is difficult, noble, soulful and true. And with each note his long graceful fingers plays across the keys, a colorful invitation so visibly unfolded to a place where the city morning streets are freely filled with music while the last flowers of summer float away in circles through the trees. It was as if we was some sort of magician with the gift to transport sleepy ears and eyes of passing strangers from speedy buzzing hustle and bustle of every day matter of fact tasks to a place where the present moment is suddenly illuminated, unfettered, heard, felt and seen.
