I heard a jazz trio as I walked the dark streets of San Francisco, but never once laid my tired eyes on them. They played across moonlit parks and down steep hills; they played for the wealthy sipping wine at bars and the homeless restless in alleys. The vibrations of the drum throbbed with the pulse, the soul was plucked from the strings of the bass, and black and white keys preached the heart. The people in the streets never once looked for the source, but they walked in beat with the music and their lives rested in that delicate balance.
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