Meanings from them all.

In the middle of an autumn day while I walked back from buying cigarettes in my desert city, the sun shined heavy when I noticed an old man around his sixties wearing blue leather boots and blue leather jacket, a cowboy hat and a blue guitar carrying the message "Guitarist Magician, no one best in town". ?In his slow steps he seemed worried, his cheeks red burned by sun, white bandana heavy from sweat, he was looking to the sidewalk, to the sides and then far. Our steps where directed on the same direction for about two hundred meters; from the stairs of the international border with the U.S. to the famous “Tecolote's" south corner, a grey four floors high parking lot inside downtown; close to the cops and far from the drunk burglars. The Man found relief when by chance spotted a carton, he picked it up. On first thought I believed he would use it to block the sun from his body. Is common for us people in Mexicali to use whatever we can to ease the walks under the sun. But the magician did his first trick and shaped the carton as a shelf covering his guitar, pressing it against his body his guitar found protection from the sun: A true mariachi from the days of past. I couldn’t hold myself and quickly approached him, I offered him a lift to wherever he needed. He declined, its common to not trust anyone in this part of town. I didn't insist and let him go his way, I turned around and walk towards the lots into my car. The magician saw this and took on my proposal. I left him in a cheap hotel surrounded by bars and little offices filled with hookers for the rent. He said he didn't had a way to repay me, I said there was no need. So he grabbed his guitar and played a blues that changed to classic rock wonderfully, to what he added some improvised lyrics; I believed in magic by sound on that day. Then he told some tales of the places music have take him. All the cities and all the people, he said he met The Beatles and he had pictures with a young Santana. He had traveled the hole continent for forty years, and crossed words with "El Che". He says he doesn’t really want something for his death bed but to die riding the world forever. I will never forget the magician and the only day I could hear his stories. I want to see and find as many or more places and people as he has. I’ll never forget the day I learned the magic in life is not in tricks but within people, in their stories, in imagining your goals and pursue them, on listening, and learning, everyday.