There was a man in our town known simply as "The Guitarist." He wasn’t famous, but everyone knew him. Every evening, he sat on the same corner of the main square, playing his guitar. His melodies weren’t flashy or complicated—they were simple, heartfelt tunes that seemed to capture the very soul of the moment.
I first met him when I was ten. My parents had just divorced, and I often wandered the streets to escape the silence of our home. One day, I stopped to listen to his music. Something about it felt comforting, like a hug in the form of sound.
“Do you want to try?” he asked, holding out his guitar.
I shook my head. “I don’t know how.”
He smiled, his weathered face lighting up. “Everyone knows how. You just haven’t remembered yet.”
Over the next few weeks, I visited him every evening. He taught me the basics—how to hold the guitar, how to strum, how to let the strings speak. “It’s not about being perfect,” he said. “It’s about playing what you feel.”
Then, one day, he wasn’t there. His spot was empty, and the silence was heavier than I’d expected.
“Where’s the guitarist?” I asked a vendor nearby.
He sighed. “He passed away last night. Heart failure, they said.”
I felt a lump rise in my throat. It wasn’t fair. He had given so much joy, and now he was just... gone.
A few days later, I found myself in the square, holding my father’s old guitar. I sat where The Guitarist used to sit and began to play one of the songs he had taught me.
At first, I was nervous, but then people began to stop, just as I had years ago. Some smiled, some swayed to the rhythm, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of peace.
Now, I play in the square every week, keeping his melodies alive. He may be gone, but through his music—and through me—his legacy lives on.
Tune in now and let the music play! ????✨
????https://bom.so/Sce47Q
❌The video is our own source, reuse in any form is strictly prohibited ????
#guitar #guitarmusicrelaxing #healingspring #guitarmusic
I first met him when I was ten. My parents had just divorced, and I often wandered the streets to escape the silence of our home. One day, I stopped to listen to his music. Something about it felt comforting, like a hug in the form of sound.
“Do you want to try?” he asked, holding out his guitar.
I shook my head. “I don’t know how.”
He smiled, his weathered face lighting up. “Everyone knows how. You just haven’t remembered yet.”
Over the next few weeks, I visited him every evening. He taught me the basics—how to hold the guitar, how to strum, how to let the strings speak. “It’s not about being perfect,” he said. “It’s about playing what you feel.”
Then, one day, he wasn’t there. His spot was empty, and the silence was heavier than I’d expected.
“Where’s the guitarist?” I asked a vendor nearby.
He sighed. “He passed away last night. Heart failure, they said.”
I felt a lump rise in my throat. It wasn’t fair. He had given so much joy, and now he was just... gone.
A few days later, I found myself in the square, holding my father’s old guitar. I sat where The Guitarist used to sit and began to play one of the songs he had taught me.
At first, I was nervous, but then people began to stop, just as I had years ago. Some smiled, some swayed to the rhythm, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a sense of peace.
Now, I play in the square every week, keeping his melodies alive. He may be gone, but through his music—and through me—his legacy lives on.
Tune in now and let the music play! ????✨
????https://bom.so/Sce47Q
❌The video is our own source, reuse in any form is strictly prohibited ????
#guitar #guitarmusicrelaxing #healingspring #guitarmusic
- Catégories
- Cours de Guitare
- Mots-clés
- guitar romantic, guitar, guitar music
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