Accordion...(19/8)

Someone was playing with an accordion on the train this morning, and since the first time I have travelled to Paris eight years ago, I know that this is a very typical performance for money in between the carriages of train, and nothing is that new and special...
The carriage was quite full this morning, and when the accordion played, the traditional tunes of Europe echoed inside the people with different dreams and thoughts. The performer was a twenty-something man who tried to be pleasant with a smiling during the performance. I forget the moment of transit but along the journey, there was a very European style of atmosphere shadowed with transparent images of dancing dresses' wave that flash on the dancing floor with joy. I guess that most of the passengers were listening to the tunes, and suddenly we seemed gathering in a trouble-less motion of today leaving behind the retarding scenery outside the train. I thought of the decadent Seine, a twisting waist of brightness that has given shelter to the dropping stars from the glamorous past. There is a difference between the rich and the poor, and John Kennedy is right to say that there is inherited wealth in the country and also inherited poverty, but the proportion between the two can draws a significant varied society. Along the Seine, I wondered if the sound of accordion would still occasionally turn its way in the ragged urban topography in Paris. In front of the many people who beg for money on the streets, would these train musicians be proud of having the privilege to get a life? I am not sure, but I do wish a world of music could last. Headsets may take away passengers' faith, and to me, the simple salutation of the performer after the last gesture of the accordion dance offers a well inside the carriage for some naive wishes. Or at least, the clapping hands after the performance this morning would serve as an encouragement to the beauty of life.