Enjoying the mellow tones of the harp being played before me in the coffee shop. Like a well trained magician confident in his tricks this old man is weaving his magic spell on the audience. You can feel the difference in the air now the rock music has faded. Someone has just complimented him on his playing and he doesn’t stop, just smiles a knowing smile that says he already knows how good he is, but thanks for noticing anyway.

Not that he is smug, far from it, just confidant. An old man is he, no hair on top but a little around the edges. Grey with the turn of time but a kindly face and body that tell the story of a long lived, and loved, life.

The espresso machine in the background hisses away. My ears are torn between the twinkling harp and the hissing machine. The sign behind him states the source of the coffee beans used here :

• Ethiopia
• El Salvador
• Costa Rica

Or maybe this is actually where the music will transport us? As tattoo’d ladies swan around with men of gold not far behind. Isn’t it amazing what becomes profound when listening to such mellow sounds?