Everyone was thanking him. He had no idea why this was happening. “What happened to these people,” he thought? After “centuries”, did they finally hear my songs?
Actually, it started as a normal day. He played his guitar in the corner of the big park. It was a daily routine. At the same hour every day, he was going there to sing and play.
People saw him there every day. Or were they really seeing him? He sometimes thought that he was invisible. Or he was a story? A person of “was”.
Even in the present tense, he was a was. He was there at that moment, but actually he “was there”. Not “is”. Never. He also started to believe that he was a street story that no one believed.
But that day was different. As he played his guitar, people started to thank him:
“Thanks for the beautiful morning!”
“You made my day, thank you. I followed you on Twitter!”
“I don’t quit just because of you. Thank you for the morning motivation!”
“If you move to another city one day, I have to relocate too! Thank you!”
“Can I borrow you for a day?”
“You are responsible for creating happy mornings! Thank you.”
“Did you just make my day?”
“Can I have a hug?”
“Just check your Twitter account. You are growing like a monster dude!”
“Are you single?”
An old lady:
“You are medicine!”
“Can I sing with you?”
“I will miss my meeting because of you. Come with me!”
“Sing in my shirt!”
It was raining cats and thanks. He was feeling like a rock star. A rock star of the streets. A rock star of everyone. Was this also a story? He didn’t want to question the story. He couldn’t help checking his Twitter account with his phone while he was singing. Yes, he hit almost 70K!
He stopped singing. He just couldn’t go on. He had to learn what was going on. He was just going to ask the joker…
“Sorry, but why everyone behave like I am Elvis today?”
“So you don’t know!”
“What should I know? Please tell me!”
“Trump, tweeted against the street artists yesterday. So today people show their support!”
People were showing their support. This sentence was a washing machine. It cleaned all the emotions in him. Show support. Show…
“And that was a show?”
“What do you mean? Isn’t that awesome to show support?”
“I thought that… Never mind… Sorry..”
He placed his guitar to its case and left the street silently. The world was Trumping. He was never going to sing in that world again.