singers in the subway

every other morning, at york mills subway station, i pass by a street performer playing guitar singing songs from the sixties. he is in his sixties, or at least looks like he is. i call him "mr sixty". mr sixty is a small-sized unimpressive and impassionate singer. i am good at staying calm with noises. unfortunately, i recognize all the songs he sings, only not right away. his low and vague voice set my mind to work unwillingly, trying to figure out which song he is actually trying to do damage to. by the time i get to the other side of the hall with a substantially damaged morning spirit. mr sixty need to pay for keeping this spot.

yesterday, as soon as i stepped onto this hall that connects subway and bus hub, i was struck by an uplifting soprano doing a classic opera number in italian. i looked over to mr sixty's spot. it was empty. there was only one person standing at the end of the hall -- a tall guy with grey hair pulling a garbage bag out of a can. then he pushed the cart slowly upward the slope as well as his voice...

i am sure, if he could take mr sixty's spot, i would want to pay among many other fellow morning commuters.