text: Greg was living an enchanted life. He had a condo, a hot girlfriend, and a career that killed. He was at the top of his game and nothing was going to stop him. He walked down the cement that laid a foundation of his personal will, he was strong and able, that was bullet proof. The downtown area was a gem that had been restored and rectified to assure longevity and courage for every person that walked in it. A lullaby sounded from ahead. He walked this way often and had not come across such a song. He looked. Who was it? He saw a very old homeless man sitting on the walkway with a sign and harmonica. Greg stumbled. He was quite a distance still from the busker. The buildings were solid proof that god and man were real to Greg. They were inheritance of a strength and character passed on through generations to create a solid core of civilization. He looked up. The sun shined through the clouds and he was delighted by the Fall air. He spied a coffee shop. This was a perfect day for a cup of joe. He entered. Greg ordered himself a cup of the finest coffee in the downtown area. Its was hot, it was fresh, and it was surreal to drink, nearly every day. He smelled the cup. It was piping hot and fresh. He dropped two dollars to the worker. They had earned their lot in life and Greg knew what it was like to work hard. They smiled. He left the coffee shop and re-entered the street. The nine o' clock walk way was too much. He smiled. It was his best friend, day after day, as his stocks continued to grow. It was a walk way to a secure and better retirement. He heard the music again. He looked. The homeless man was really interesting. To Greg he appeared ragged and loud but his music was anything but, it was captivating. Initially Greg was nearly in heaven at the sound of the music; like was said, he had not seen the busker before and he was nearly hypnotized by the sound. He stumbled again. The man stared down the sidewalk and they made eye contact. Greg was stunned and hypnotized. He was staring at him and it was having an impact on Greg. He felt odd and weak, he was immediately sickened in body and mind. He looked away. He drank from his coffee. He heard the music and felt sick to his stomach. He stopped. He took deep breathes and tried to stop the urge to vomit. He stood still. The music was playing loudly in his ears. He tried to breath deep and release. He did not want to lose his will on the sidewalk and vomit. He could not hold his stomach any longer. He vomited. The man continued to watch Greg. He put down his harmonica and began to sing. "The ones you see are you. The ones you see are you. When this day is over they are you. If you look hard enough you will see they are you." Greg could hear the man singing. He looked around. A couple of people tried to help him and he shooed them along to move along. He would be fine. He always was fine. He wiped off his mouth with a hankie that someone had given him. He continued to walk closer to the busker. "Yeah they are you. The ones you see are you. The ones you see are you. I am a prophet of the truth only the truth and they are you." Greg was agitated. He was woozy still and felt like stoning the man. How dare he sit in the middle of the greatest city in the world and collect the observations of other's wonder. He was a worker. He was an able citizen. He was a someone. Greg became infuriated as he continued to walk. He thought, "I will show him". He saw the busker's case. He kicked it away from the man. He asked him what he just said. The man looked up at him confused. He had not known that Greg was so close to where he was. He had been busy trying to make a dime. "Why you do that man, I just found this spot. I mean what's your problem? Why you hurting me? Why you fucks always hurting me?" The man started to cry. Greg picked up his harmonica and shot off a single note. People had stopped to watch him. Greg belted out, "The one that falls today falls everyday, the weak is the strong because we had this debate before. We've had this discussion. The one that falls is an age old tale." He laughed and grabbed his stomach. People were stunned at what they were seeing. Greg fell over and hit his head. The man continued to cry. The crowd was astounded. They tried to help Greg get up while others assisted the busker gather his things. The two men did not acknowledge each other and both received assistance from the crowd. Greg was passed out on the sidewalk. The busker was visibly shaken but gathered his change and dollars and straightened his little spot on the walkway. He was settled in and he knew this was just a first day in a long series of events. He had just arrived in town. He had just touched down. Greg was motionless. He was being escorted off by a small group of paramedics that had set up shop in a tall skyscraper. People began to drop 20s in the busker's basket. He smiled with his shiny face and eyes and thanked them. Most had not heard either of them and the words they spoke that day. Greg was carried off. The busker remained satisfied with his first day in the new town he knew he would have soft sheets and a drink in the skyscraper's hotel room system. This was a great surprise and he could not help but to think everything happens for a reason. He continued to play the harmonica as the street got back to normal.