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"Dude, where are you? We're all in the studio waiting to record this demo and still haven't heard from you. Call me back."
Alex shut off his phone, which had been filled and emptied of new voice messages before he boarded his plane and refilled by the time he got off. But that didn't matter because he'd finally convinced himself to get out of Lima, even if just for a while, and away from everyone there.
He had just walked out of the airplane, glad that he wasn't as easily recognizable in a foreign city, when he heard a sound that wasn't so foreign. Off on the sidewalk, a ragged, old man was playing the guitar for tips, which he wasn't receiving.
People passed by him and completely ignored as he played with such a delicacy that Alex felt incompetent in his own musical abilities by comparison. He made his way over to the guy and in the best French he could speak said, "Is that by Jake P. you're playing, sir?"
The man nodded and said in English, "You're an American."
"I am," Alex answered, returning to his language more comfortably. "Is it that easy to tell?"
"A little," the man said. He stopped playing and said, "We love Jake here. If only I could sing and get more attention but these people don't care about anything anymore. No real music. If I came out with one of those electric songs—"
"Electronic?" asked Alex.
"Yes, yes, yes," the man said. "Maybe then they'd listen, with the fake instruments and odd sounds. All computer-generated now."
"Well, you're an excellent guitar player," Alex told him. "Can you play it again?"
The man hesitated but then put the guitar back in position and Alex started to sing.
["I'm a Mess" by Ed Sheeran, who has just dropped double singles which better mean a double album, I'm so ready for the rest of his songs, ok that's all, back to the story.]
Alex: Oh I'm a mess right now. Inside out. Searching for a sweet surrender. But this is not the end. I can't work it out. How...? Going through the motions. Going through us.
