I often see Charles playing his guitar on Main Street, usually sitting on the sidewalk. This time I stopped, put a couple of dollars in his jar, and sat on the sidewalk in front of him. He said that he would play his best piece, which he wrote. It was quite nice, and he picked the 12 string guitar very well. Charles said that his parents wanted him to be a doctor or lawyer. When he said that he wanted to play the guitar for a living, they kicked him out of the house. He has lived on the street ever since. Sometimes, he is allowed to stay in the lanai of a friends house, but more often he is a street person, and tips as a busker are his only income.
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A young lady stopped by and asked if he had a light for her cigarette. He handed her a lighter, and she handed him two cigarettes as payment. Charles immediately dropped them into the sound hole. The guitar body was his piggy bank; it stored any items small enough to fit.