Refuge for a musician
Refuge for a musician (Any of us could sit in the middle of the Street and be in danger of being ran over and insulted by the people driving by.
But our musician, with his little accordion, demands respect. Everyone knows that he is there, they look at him, and they even admire him.
We could think that his accordion gives him refuge, that it secludes him from everyone else. Every day he sits with his old musical instrument and a piece of paper to get some coins, attracts the attention of passersby without caring what he is wearing, if it is raining or even cold. He can play until the last note of his music sheet… a smile or a look in admiration. His refuge it is not only for himself, in some way, we are all part of it every time we pass by. Our mind gets liberated and centers only in the notes that this musician is playing with his accordion. You can even stop by and request a song, a story, that with his years of experience and his naive life, will give us a different place to contemplate, which it can only be understood if we become one with our musician’s refuge and his accordion. By playing the notes from his music sheet, he gets integrated in a space to which he is not adapted to, but that during the time the song is being played, it becomes something hard to appreciate by people listening, and who go back to the most hidden innocence that they can ever imagine.
Parting from the definition of refuge, which we use to avoid our surroundings, our musician conquers it with his accordion, reaching a surrounding-refuge-occupant interaction. What I mean is, that the musician adapts to his surroundings thanks to his accordion, he even benefits from it, by getting coins in exchange. The surroundings respect his space, and the occupant enjoys what he does, which is playing an instrument, and ourselves, who are listening to the music coming from his old accordion.
Lastly, for this refuge there is no need for a land, only understanding that it is not necessary to colonize the space, to get refuge from the surroundings, in which we live.
Written by Alberto Porras Barrios