Dion lived on the street. Not just any street, he lived in an alleyway in the Monemvasia Castle, Laconia, Greece. He had no money and his only possessions consisted of: a pair of worn and shabby old jeans, leather sandles, a poncho and a long bandana. His only other possession was his Grandmother’s accordion.
He hardly ever spoke. Dion wasn’t an entertainer by trade. However, he did play the accordion beautifully. Local bar proprietors gave him wine and plates of left-over food to serenade guests. They tried to encourage him to walk amongst the tables playing but he refused. “I’ll play” he said “but I’ll sit here in the alleyway. The sound echoes here and I can look beyond the narrow walls and street lantern, out to sea and beyond.”
“Its better to leave him on the street” said the Mayor, “You will have to pay him a decent wage if you allow him in the restaurant!”
So Dion stayed there in the Monemvasian alleyway. Nestled amongst the empty bottles, creeping shadows, giggles, stares and smiles of tourists.
“We should put a wooden bench here in memory of him, when he dies.” Said one proprietor.
“No” said the Mayor, “You’d have to pay taxes and it would narrow the alleyway for the tourists. You could perhaps extend the ‘happy hour’?” suggested the Mayor as he drank his wine and listened to the sweetly haunting music emanating from the alleyway.
Photo by vspireas https://instagram.com/p/7UcJpXFHLQ/