"We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams."
- Arthur O'Shaughnessy
Megan dresses up as a mouse and goes dancing on Chapel Street, Melbourne. She has a big cardboard sign next to her saying "JOIN ME" and I wonder if anybody ever does. Funky beats from her huge white double iPod, white makeup and black sunglasses, black stockings and shorts. That's all she needs for a day in the office.
She talks to me and straight away I notice her American accent. She's from Chicago, has two older siblings, and grew up in a conservative house with Christian parents. Megan lives with her husband in Melbourne and she just scored a part-time job collecting funds for charity. She doesn't usually talk during her performances so I'm grateful she spoke to me. Dave kept telling me to stop and talk to her but I didn't want to interrupt her, felt too shy and self-conscious.
Megan wasn't self-conscious. She was beautiful and sensual. I always look at buskers and wonder who they are, how they feel. They're the lucky ones, watching all the rats from the race scramble past. Buskers are free, on the street, doing their thing with a little bit of magic.
Sometimes Megan gets abused by meth-heads which is a bit hairy, but she loves what she does. Her husband works in a bank and I picture them arriving home at night, making dinner together, talking about their day. They might move to America, or stay in Melbourne. Or go somewhere else. They're not bogged down with a mortgage or kids or the stagnancy of life.
I shook her hand and thanked her so much for talking with me. A few days later she sent me an email, thanking me.
"Eden it was so nice to meet YOU! Talking to people like you and seeing kids smile and have fun is what keeps me going as a performer. That day you spoke to me it was like a ghost town on Chapel Street - you guys just came out of the blue and turned my whole day around. Thanks for that. Enjoy the rest of Melbourne, and if you find yourself on Chapel Street again, give this mouse a nod."
I punched my self-consciousness out of the way and did go up and dance with her. I like dancing. We desperately need our artists, our dancers, our music-makers. The next day we were in a taxi and Max saw Megan the Mouse out of his window, doing her thing down in St Kilda.
"Mum there's that dancing lady!"
Melbourne if you see this amazing mouse, watch her for just one minute. Tell her I say hi, maybe pull out a gold coin. You'll feel better and you won't know why.
::
Street Talk is here each Friday. I love how everybody adored Noelene The Young last week! Every single one of us has a story. Sometimes all it takes is a question to find out. Have you talked to any strangers lately?
And we are the dreamers of dreams."
- Arthur O'Shaughnessy
Megan dresses up as a mouse and goes dancing on Chapel Street, Melbourne. She has a big cardboard sign next to her saying "JOIN ME" and I wonder if anybody ever does. Funky beats from her huge white double iPod, white makeup and black sunglasses, black stockings and shorts. That's all she needs for a day in the office.
She talks to me and straight away I notice her American accent. She's from Chicago, has two older siblings, and grew up in a conservative house with Christian parents. Megan lives with her husband in Melbourne and she just scored a part-time job collecting funds for charity. She doesn't usually talk during her performances so I'm grateful she spoke to me. Dave kept telling me to stop and talk to her but I didn't want to interrupt her, felt too shy and self-conscious.
Megan wasn't self-conscious. She was beautiful and sensual. I always look at buskers and wonder who they are, how they feel. They're the lucky ones, watching all the rats from the race scramble past. Buskers are free, on the street, doing their thing with a little bit of magic.
Sometimes Megan gets abused by meth-heads which is a bit hairy, but she loves what she does. Her husband works in a bank and I picture them arriving home at night, making dinner together, talking about their day. They might move to America, or stay in Melbourne. Or go somewhere else. They're not bogged down with a mortgage or kids or the stagnancy of life.
I shook her hand and thanked her so much for talking with me. A few days later she sent me an email, thanking me.
"Eden it was so nice to meet YOU! Talking to people like you and seeing kids smile and have fun is what keeps me going as a performer. That day you spoke to me it was like a ghost town on Chapel Street - you guys just came out of the blue and turned my whole day around. Thanks for that. Enjoy the rest of Melbourne, and if you find yourself on Chapel Street again, give this mouse a nod."
I punched my self-consciousness out of the way and did go up and dance with her. I like dancing. We desperately need our artists, our dancers, our music-makers. The next day we were in a taxi and Max saw Megan the Mouse out of his window, doing her thing down in St Kilda.
"Mum there's that dancing lady!"
Melbourne if you see this amazing mouse, watch her for just one minute. Tell her I say hi, maybe pull out a gold coin. You'll feel better and you won't know why.
::
Street Talk is here each Friday. I love how everybody adored Noelene The Young last week! Every single one of us has a story. Sometimes all it takes is a question to find out. Have you talked to any strangers lately?
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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell