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The Player

Posted by in on 17-6-15

The Player

From under a bridge I crossed came a most beautiful sound. I stopped, put down my guitar, listened entranced. I climbed down the bank to see who was the player. A man my age stood next to a pylon, eyes closed, swaying his saxophone. When the song had finished he opened his eyes. I clapped and smiled.

He bowed, “thank you, thank you.”

“You’re too good to play alone,” I said, “come join my band, we’re practising soon.”

“I don’t play alone,” he replied.

Behind him sat a young girl, crayons and colouring book in hand.

“I play for her.”


Artist - Pont des Arts - Paris - France
Artist – Pont des…   Philippe …   Buy This at

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Additional Info

About the Contributor:

Louie Richmond is a writer who lives in a Tasmanian Share house in Brunswick, Melbourne. He has travelled widely but recently made the tough decision to settle down and concentrate on his writing. Eventually he would like to write a novel.

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