Noteworthy

Part three of Downtown.

He stands alone in the shelter of a closed up shop on Water Street. His fingers, calloused with the practice of his passion, move skillfully over worn strings. In the heat of summer and in winter's biting cold, he plays.

They rush past without seeing, vision focused until there is none. He sings about them as they pass - honest words, pure voice - but they do not hear. They are occupied with significant things; the evening meal, catching the train, picking up the dry cleaning.

Occasionally one will stop, listen to his song, nod or tap a foot to his tune. He appreciates this more than the coins thrown absently into his battered guitar case.