I yawn as I stretch my limbs out, one after the other, and toss a token glance of appreciation to the busker. He doesn’t seem to notice, though. He’s playing the guitar, rapt by the movement of his metallic fingers over the worn frets.
…
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I yawn as I stretch my limbs out, one after the other, and toss a token glance of appreciation to the busker. He doesn’t seem to notice, though. He’s playing the guitar, rapt by the movement of his metallic fingers over the worn frets.
…
Read more