Nobody Wants to Hear Songs Anymore

Bratislava, Slovakia
October 2019

Nobody wants to hear songs anymore. Certainly not the silhouettes emerging out from the tunnel’s depths. Despite an audience of one, the violinist is resilient and continues to play for dismissive ears. I throw a few coins into his case and study his bow swaying back and forth between the light and dark. His shadowplay is a flickering flame battling the misery of a cold, windy night. 

At times, his eyes would meet mine and he would crack a weak smile. He plays with such furious passion as if I am the wind that wishes to silence him. And by the end of his song, nobody applauds. Nobody changes pace. He turns to me and bows in my direction, placing his beloved instrument in its case. Was that his only song? Surely he has more to share. Before I could say a word, the man had already extinguished down the dark tunnel. The violinist played his tune for the night because I had no more music left in me.