Virtuoso plays for rush hour in experiment, complete with video illustrating the incredulous text around it. There are rambling thoughts on philosophers and beauty and modernity and lotto tickets and you can see the writer blinking in confusion, scrambling to explain what happened in the presence of this man whose name would be accompanied by strings of exclamation marks if he were conversing on AIM and not composing an article for a newspaper.
There is also a link to listen, after peering quizzically at a man ensconced in orange jello, to the entire forty-three-minute concert, glorious, heartbreaking, backed up by footsteps and mumblings and doors opening and closing and buoyant greetings.
Would you have stopped to listen?
I tried to stop once for someone playing guitar in a subway with a beautiful voice and drew in breath to sing a harmony and got forcibly pulled away with a hand over my mouth. I don’t forgive, I only forget, most of the time. Too bad for me. I also realize that “if and only if” is a more correct beginning to the subject line in terms of the idea I’m trying to get across but it’s clumsier.