The Song of the Street Artists

More about The Song of the Street Artists

The Song of the Street Artists
After his visit to the sea lions, Mollie continued walking—aimlessly, but with his ears open. The sun was high over the bay, seagulls sailed silently across the sky, and the streets pulsed with life. After just a few steps, he heard it: music. No radio, no speakers—real, handmade music. Mollie stopped when he saw the source: a young man with dreadlocks playing old cooking pots, plastic buckets, and pans as if they were fine instruments. Using two wooden spoons, he beat a wild, joyful song into the asphalt. Mollie's paws involuntarily tapped along. People stood all around, clapping, laughing, and throwing coins into an old guitar case. Mollie sat on the edge of a flowerpot, right at the front, among children's shoes and camera bags. The rhythm was like a heartbeat that began to dance. Further down the street, he came across another scene: an artist was kneeling on the pavement, drawing a giant 3D picture with chalk. It looked as if a waterfall were cascading from the ground. Mollie blinked, took a step back—and felt as if she were falling. "Magic!" he whispered in awe. The artist winked at him and continued painting, completely absorbed in his own work. A few meters further, something shiny flew past Mollie. A soap bubble—as big as a balloon. Then another. And another. They floated across the street, dancing in the sun. A girl with braided hair and a smile brighter than day waved two long sticks in the breeze. The bubbles shimmered in every color. Mollie stood still, watching the bubbles rise into the sky and dissolve like dreams awakened too soon. At the end of the day, as the shadows lengthened, he found himself back with the pot drummer. The musician was packing up when he saw Mollie and handed him a small wind chime—made from shells, can rings, and wire. "For you, little guy. You listen carefully." Mollie accepted it reverently. As the wind plucked at it, it sounded like the distant call of adventure.