The Mutinous Boat

He shouldered the huge bag and the black Giant guitar, as we started off down the morning road of Ponte Tresa, bound for the station. It was hot now and my new mate took off his sweater, once on the train. He embraced his guitar, sat on an entrance step and started playing. I watched him in amusement from a corner of that square space, while he was improvising a sort of show.
Some curious men stood up in the coach behind him. An old woman asked me something from afar in another language, I supposed, and I didn’t understand.
He performed fragments of songs; a handful of seconds for each piece. A chord progression sounded strangely country. He quickened and changed rhythm, showing extraordinary facial expressions.
Then he stopped for a moment and stared seriously at nothing in front of him.
- It’s out of tune again! – and he started meddling with the tuners and plucking at the strings.
He did everything at high speed and finished in time for the train doors to open at a station that wasn’t ours. He leaped up and stepped in front of two occasional commuters, who were a mother and daughter trying to get on the train.
A sequence of calm blues notes sprung from the strings, while he kept his chin slightly leaned forward. He had the attitude of a small and impudent city minstrel.
He followed the two passengers for some footsteps, then he retraced his own and sat again. He stretched his legs and let a broad smile shine on his face.
Meanwhile he continued his progression on the guitar, with a delicate and firm touch.
The Lugano lake appeared slowly under a white sun, outside of the right window.
Although very deep, it seemed to be made of glass. The whole city was born around it and all the buildings looked constantly at it. It was an undefinable city; a quiet bank that thrilled with a subterranean energy.
Until then, that city had always been voiceless for me, therefore I asked myself how I had come in that pure and burning reality. What shocked me was the thought that I deserved it, in some way.
The train stopped again. He rushed out and vanished like thin smoke, leaving nothing but a vague jingle.