A man with gray hair looks at me as I walk by. Near him a group of young men stand around talking-nodding-smiling. The air is brisk and cold. It’s 10:30pm on a Monday, August in San Francisco. I plan to turn around soon and walk home.
As I pass by Revolution Cafe, I encounter the crowd spilling out on the sidewalk and the usual smell of cannabis. But there’s also a sharp and haunting sound which pierces through and rouses my curiosity. I walk up to the open door of the cafe where a packed room of people are concentrating on a group of musicians who are seated in the middle of the crowd: three men on violin, one man playing a base guitar and a fifth on clarinet.
Tempted by the music, I squeeze past the crowd to buy a sangria and find my way back again near the door. After playing musical chairs for about ten minutes, I find myself seated a foot away from one of the violin players. His hands move horizontally in a a wide arc. He’s half seated and half standing and moves his legs up and down as he plays. I keep an eye on his movements to make sure that I stay out of his way.
I can see the music sheets and the complex arrangement of music makes my head swim. I don’t recognize the music. It could be something by Beethoven. The adagio, a style of playing music slowly, soothes and relaxes.
I had decided to go on a walk to relax my agitated mind. The walk was good but the music adds a touch of enchantment that I carry with me as I leave after 3-4 more sets. I fall asleep easily when I come home to my bed.