He was playing the blues. That day, I remember was normal, boarder lined boring, and ordinary. I was not living that day, only existing. The tone that played from that golden sax was accentuate from a low humming pitch to a brassy whine.
He was very good, this blues man. And I was in awe by his talent. I walked by with a small shy smile, and when he smiled back my whole world opened up and was shinning with glamour. Who ever thought hearing the blues would make me so happy.