Dreamed I found a corner that echoed back my songs

I'm carrying my guitar through a city that's all corners — every one of them empty, waiting. I pick one and start playing, and the buildings lean in like an audience, humming the chorus back at me a second late. When I woke up I was genuinely annoyed it wasn't real. A good pitch is half the battle; a corner that loves you back would be the whole war won.