He played. For everybody.
Even when it was freezing. And I wondered how he did it.
Play with frozen fingers I mean.
As if he couldn't feel how cold it was.
And then I imagined how in the evening he would return to his small apartment
to eat a cup of noodle soup at the kitchen table.
Worrying how he would pay the rent next month.
Stroking his cat named Edgar,
who would always jump on the table when he was eating.
He gave up on trying to teach Edgar not to do so.
I listened to the sound of his violin,
as I was going out of the metro station,
And it made me feel as if I wasn't alone.
I even didn't mind the rain.
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