Man on a bridge

I first visited Prague in September 2009 and during that trip I was mesmerised by a man on a bridge playing a strange percussion instrument, he had metal claws on each of his finger tips which created complex rhythms as he beat, tapped, stroked and strummed the instrument on his lap. He was lost in the moment, completely consumed in the making of music, yet in company and harmony with the band (friends?) with which he played.

I returned to Prague this Spring, almost five years after I was there last and once again I took an evening walk to admire the city at night. I walked onto that same bridge, surrounded by milling tourists and midway across I, once again, came upon that same man. Still on the bridge, still with his band and still playing with the same singular expression as when last I had seen him.

I don't know why he plays on that bridge, or whether the balance of his life has the stillness I've seen in those fleeting moments. I do know that I aspire in life to live some of my moments in the same way as that man on a bridge.