He rests the rebec on his knee. It is that moment — the moment when the crowd has thinned and the next group of tourists has not arrived yet. The brief window of break when his time belongs to him and his thoughts begin to wander.
He had a dream. Once.
It is difficult to believe but once upon a time, he was young. I am young, he tells himself. But once upon a time, when he was younger, he had a dream. He wanted to bring the music of his village into the world. The gentle song of the river, of the grassland and of the trees; the world is more interested in the harsh sounds of the metal, of the rock and of the electric.
“He rests the rebec on his knee.”
He had a dream. And once upon a time, he naively thought the world owed it to him to listen to his music. The simple songs of his village’s river, of his village’s grassland and of his village’s trees. He felt he was entitled to the success. But the baffling sounds of the metal, of the rock and of the electric prevail.
He prevailed too — not in a manner he is proud of, but he prevailed. Forty years, he has been singing the meaningful songs of his village to tourists who listen. Forty years, he has been singing the meaningful songs of his village to tourists who do not listen. And forty years, he has been singing the meaningful songs of his village meaninglessly.
“The gentle song of the river, of the grassland and of the trees; the world is more interested in the harsh sounds of the metal, of the rock and of the electric.”
As his rebec techniques improve, his rebec playing becomes hollow.
“Look Ma!” a child points excitedly. “What a funny violin!”
“Shh, don’t point. That’s rude,” the mother pulls her child away and they hurry off to rejoin their tour group.
I am still young, he reminds himself. Both the village and the world are far away, with him straddling in between. He is the last musician of his village to the world, the only one who still remembers the songs of his village.
“Forty years, he has been singing the meaningful songs of his village meaninglessly.”
He resumes his playing.
From the Window Seat 
I do like that last line… it hits
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