Here like in most cities – in the stations, the street corners, the weekend markets – we hear them, often choose not to see them.
Yet once in a while, they play a favourite song and put a smile on the face. Reach into the pocket for some loose change, drop into the hat and off we go on our way with the music like the softest silk veil trailing in the underground draft as the escalator ascend from the echoed subway halls into the street above.
At a book café, a group of buskers gingerly moved their instruments towards the back to the bar counter, ordered a beer each and poured out their earnings from the morning’s gig. Dreamy happy guys sharing everything they made from small change we threw at them.
In my limited Spanish, I asked if it was a good day for them. “Always a good day, me and my music friends.” And why not. They’re doing what they love. Everyday is a good day here.
¡ Siempre Madrid !