I took a wonderful walk through the tunnel from Port Authority to the number 7 this morning.
At its aperture I first came across the Gospel Man, a gentle man who has an exquisite voice to sing spirituals by. The other two times I have passed him I have thought how wonderful it would be to hire him for a garden tea party. How nice it would be to have him sing for an hour, followed by a Vivaldi solo concerto performance from my next door neighbor who is a concert violinist.
Following this Lord’s messenger half-way through the underground passageway there was an ancient Chinese man playing the lute. To less attentive and discriminating ears he may have sounded exotic, but for me he sounded pretty crappy. However, this did not dilute the pleasant effect his complementary performance had on me.
For immediately after him, at the closing of this segue, there were two more delightful musicians, playing a duet across the walkway form each other. A guitarist and a clarinetist were dueling out good ol’ southern by way of dirt country roads down to the river rhythm and blues.
The trio of musical segments cumulated to trigger childhood memories of gliding though Disneyland’s “It’s a Small World” waterway or the promenade through Bear Country at the other side of the amusement park.
Woe, is the loss of innocence.
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