The exact moment the busker’s song lands

It’s 4:17 a.m. and I just played ‘Landslide’ on the corner by the old library. Not because it was planned, but because the wind shifted and suddenly the pigeons stopped fighting over crumbs. One kid in a hoodie paused mid-step, then leaned against the wall like he’d been waiting for that chord. That’s when I knew—this isn’t about money or applause. It’s about the second when someone stops pretending they’re not listening.