Moment of happiness

Moment of happiness

Sitting on the terrace of the bar at the corner of the street, I sip my beer while watching the guitar player. He is blond. Duvet throne as a crown on his head. It really does not look very fresh air and skin and bones, as we say. I watch from the corner of the eye. I admire his fingers dancing on the strings of his instrument. Eyes stray transported to another world.

He sits cross-legged. He sees no one except notes that dance around him, those who blow his rhythmic vibration. His body transforms into the partition. It is disconnected from the street and passersby who stop to admire or look at this strange character. It is true that the look is not common. He wears a custom uniform. It looks like the hippie era, perhaps. But regardless, my mind hears the application of travel musician.

I am here, in front of my empty glass for over a half hour. I visit, but I restrained by the furious strength of the ear. I cannot hear the noise, I cannot see my environment. I am spellbound driven. I feel getting up. I feel my limbs translate sounds. I feel my body squirm with pleasure. I feel weightless. My body speaks, my mind keeps pace. I do not think about this appointment, I think only release me. I'm not stressed. I do not run. I relax. By chance, I just find harmony was missing. I'm not the man in a hurry. I am not the man embittered by the lack of sun. For the first time. I take the time to taste. I take the time to touch. I take the time to look. I take the time, this time for a little happiness. Sounds are heard in my head like an escape melody. This young man I thought was a urluberlu sings my life. I am here, to listen, to watch it. I forgot all of my programs for the day. I am only a banker. But above all I am a living being. I do not see me. I redesigned the vibrations I get from this kid. I do not look my age. On the scope, I just had the majority. I discover myself. The beating of my heart with it.

Suddenly, plus a sound caught my ear. I see him get up. I look at his friend's store in its case. He picks up his jacket. He had placed on it. He grabs his hat, recovers some coins he won and shoves it in his pocket. My whole being can not turn away. He shakes his jacket and pulls. Then he leaves.

I recommend a glass to perpetuate this magic moment . After daydreaming , I found my spirits. I pay and I'm off to my appointment. I still have very little time to be on time . I come and I go into my bank. My staff greets me . Once in my office, I sit . I never cease to savor the moment that made me good.

Toc Toc Toc! I get up. The hand on the handle, the door opens slowly. I feel that I take the time. When suddenly, I cannot hide my surprise. This young man is before me. I welcome with a smile. After a good handshake, I invite him to come in and sit down. It is not alone, his guitar accompanies.

Our interview is confidential. Although the fear of my job requires me to stay on my guard, I agree to follow the project.
I write this memory to this because it is a present I received that day. Today it is always equal to itself, except for one detail perhaps. He became an entrepreneur, but he continues to play in the same place for my greatest happiness. He sold me a smile.

Auteur

Ce contenu a été publié dans Points d'ancrage, avec comme mot(s)-clef(s) anglais, auteur, écrire, écrivain, Kentin Spark, Points d'ancrage. Vous pouvez le mettre en favoris avec ce permalien.