1001
Photograph by Jennifer McIntosh
Elias saw the harmonica player as he left the train station. He was standing on the street corner, an ice-cream bucket at his feet, blowing out Spectrum’s ‘I’ll be Gone’ into the crisp, winter morning. He had no shoes, and his feet were black. He wore a shirt that may once have held colour and a filthy pair of jeans shredded at the ankles. The sun flashed off the silver harmonica, sending tiny comets into the rush-hour morning. His hair was ragged, short. The torrent of humanity swept around him as though he was a useless island in a ceaseless river.
As Elias approached him, a huge truck rumbled by, swamping the sound of the harmonica. As its thunder dissipated, the song returned, only to be swamped again by a passing bus. Elias did what he did witho
