Everybody in the city is simultaneously shooting and starring in their own movie.
Many are running their own soundtrack, earbuds locked in place to protect their private music from ambient noise.
The Old Lady’s soundtrack IS that ambient noise, chords built of screeching rails and honking traffic and wailing sirens… but occasionally, found sounds of less discordance…
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… like the bearded dude with a backpack who sat down at a colorful paint-splashed piano and filled the transit station with liquid notes…
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… or The Dianas, who sang thousand-year-old songs to the modernistic steel and glass structures surrounding the Arts Piazza.
“Free range music,” sighed The Old Lady as she settled into a chair. “A fine addition to my personal soundtrack.”
Sounds wonderful, I love days like that!