Missed Connections and Made Ones

Sometimes there are street musicians who seem to be on another level than the others. There was a man like that in the train station last week, singing with his guitar. Most of the time he just sounded like a really good folk singer, but every once in a while he let out an other-worldly hum in his high range, and I couldn't even believe it was coming from him. It was the sweetest sound I'd ever heard from a man's voice. I stood right near him and clapped when he finished his song. After he thanked me, a man appeared from the other side of the barrier with a hand outstretched. The singer shook it and proceeded to strike up a conversation. They chatted while the station filled with people. I thought it was a shame that he was missing the chance to perform for this huge crowd of people; they would be gone in a moment and never have heard him sing. By the time he picked up his guitar again, the train was approaching, and its noise drowned him out. I watched him on mute from the window of the train, and I saw the last people step off the platform, but the man who shook the singer's hand hadn't come onto the train. He had stayed back to hear the rest of the song. And I suppose he would listen better than a crowd of people anyway.