I heard a little dark haired boy sitting on the bridge over the Spree, playing 3 notes and two chords scattered in rhythm and melody. I could not bear to watch him. Every time he sped up, skipped a beat, crashed his chord - my thoughts sped up, my heart skipped a beat and I felt as though I would crash into a tree. But when I turned around, and walked away along the river towards the dreamy antiquity of Museum Island, the basic rules of music making no longer applied. The voice of the accordion echoed through the columns of Bose Museum, bounced through the green crisp willow branches, rang through my ears and I was enchanted.
I few steps away, I quickly ran back to toss him a coin.
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