A guy on an overburdened low-rider bike sauntered across in front of our lane’s turn crossing the road.
As I got closer, I saw the mounted keyboard on the side and a foldable sectioned pad on the back for the homeless-by-choice younger musician’s sleep comfort.
“Alright!,” I exclaimed out loud – but he couldn’t hear me.
“Movin’ Up!”
Candid Corvid Productions 