Brrr! How cold am I! I spent all day in the street under the snow playing my sax. A nice man gave me a cup of hot coffee at lunchtime, but that was all. People were in a hurry under the gelid weather.
The strong wind had turned the snowflakes into little arrows of ice. I took shelter in a corner in the fifth avenue, trying to awake good feelings from people passing by who saw me playing with my coat and my cap covered in white. It wasn’t easy to move my fingers to make de music flow. All was very strange.
The snow is like a mute mode in music, that muffles all sounds: The traffic, the voices of the people.
But my saxophone bravely raised its clear, melodic voice over the prevailing silence. I enjoyed playing, although my hands, body, and soul were freezing.
Since March, my orchestra had been out of work due to the Coronavirus, and I had not any income since then. I spent everything I had and found myself with nothing to eat.
Today had been my first day as a busker, begging for a few coins in exchange for a bit of my art. I’ve played sad songs, just like my feelings. The music helped me forget the shame.
As always, I’ve enjoyed making music. If it weren’t for the cold, I could imagine that I was in the concert hall with my trombone and all my companions building a symphony. But no, I was alone and hungry, trying to get some money to buy something to eat.
Most of the people didn’t stop. Only a woman stayed for a while. She was listening to my music and told me: you are an artist. She left me some money and great consolation.
Now I am with my mask, counting the coins I have earned to see if I can afford a hamburger before I go home.
In my apartment, I still have ready the tuxedo that I usually wear to concerts. On the floor, there are the scores that I have been rehearsing just in case we go back to normal.
But nothing is normal. The night’s loneliness awaits me in which I will have to gather strength to face my second day in this new career as a street musician that I have just started.