One Bird in a Flock

He’s on the side of the street, smashing buckets underground. Dozens of people pass him like he’s a paper bag. His arms look muscular and exhausted, but his eyes are bright and determined. His break consists of splashing water onto his hairy face, sipping the last few drops. He glances at his few dollar bills in a beat up old hat, then takes two big breaths and continues banging. The drum sticks look like they were found in the woods, just like his ripped apart t-shirt and basketball shorts. Everyone passing him by is dressed in black and white, but this man is making noise with his buckets and his passion. Color radiates the underground like a rainbow filling the sky.


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