The first escalator going down into Angel tube is a long one, so my brain had a couple of minutes to register the music. As I walked along the tunnels and hopped aboard the second escalator, and the music got louder and more miraculous, I got quite excited at the thought that somewhere ahead of me a real live person was playing his guitar and causing this amazing sound.
And there he was, hunched over, eyes closed, lost in the music. The temptation to find a quiet place to stand and just enjoy for a few minutes was strong, but I was on a deadline, so I put some money in his guitar case, beamed at him, and went to stand on the platform where, thank goodness, the music sounded at its best.
Talent. Man, what a thing that is. I know nothing about the blues, but I know that guy was good. And probably he'd worked hard to become so, but he wasn't sitting there playing Oasis covers - he was the real thing.
Then I went to Tate Modern, my head still full of talent and what that means, and I walked past Shakespeare's Globe, and the Golden Hinde, and then I looked at the Sunflower Seeds in the Turbine Hall, and I thought about Gauguin and I looked at some other paintings and then I came home and watched TV - good TV - written by my very talented friend. Then I read a rather beautiful book and almost couldn't sleep for gladness that some people in this world are talented, and that they allow the world, and me in particular, to sit for a while and listen to the music.
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you are so good - spreading a little gladness around the citadel.
ReplyDeletewhich friend wrote which tv? woudl be good to see something dcent rather than looking forward to new series hells kitchen usa on monday (dire times).
shucks
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