So many decisions led up to this point in my life. My choice to go to engineering school, realizing it wasn’t my shtick. Deciding to pursue art, finding a wealth of money problems to bar any real success.
Then I found music. Just a hobby at youth, my love for music blossomed into a burning passion for the audible art. It didn’t pay well, only slightly better than the artist gig, but it gave me an opportunity to see the world. I learned the culture of many peoples; the petty French, the haughty Brits, the lovable Swedes. But they all wouldn’t mind giving a buck to a ragged man, more bones than meat, and sharing the tale of life we all live.
This old guitar may have been slowly killing me, but it gave me life. I learned more on the streets than I ever could have from a textbook. This old rigid pillow, old umbrella, old dancing partner. This old guitar and me, the inseparable pair for the rest of time.
-Pablo Picasso’s “The Old Guitarist”