Photo Source: Craige Moore
I am the music. I am the etude in the interlude of your commute. I am the soaring arpeggios that connect your trains as you transfer. I am the sound of your morning.
You know me from the E Train platform at 34th St. My cello resonates through the ten seconds it takes to go from your train to the stairs. I am the Bach Cello Suites you hear in the background as you head for your office.
I have studied and absorbed the Casals recordings, and I bring the passion to my studies uptown and to my busking downtown. I practice the suites all morning as you, my audience, comes and goes, over and over again, and again. An audience of 1,000 every 90 seconds. An audience of 120,000 for the three hours I play every morning. An audience of 120,000 that stays for ten seconds. You are not here for me, but I am here for you with the music that lifts your spirit for the day ahead.
You pass me by. You walk by, hurried and harried. You sometimes acknowledge, sometimes dropping change in my case. Mostly you walk by, occupied by other thoughts. But you hear and recognize. The magnificence of Suite No. 1 in G Major greets you as the doors of your train open. You have heard it so many times before, and now you hear it on the platform on the way to Point B. You pause for a split second, recognize the melody and move on as the music passes on to you. You are not aware of me at all, but you have received my morning gift.
You are not aware of me, but I am the music of your morning.