It was Sunday morning on the Left Bank.

We had just left our hotel. The most beautiful Vivaldi music filled the air. From somewhere.

We followed the sounds through the narrow streets, turned the corner, and there he stood. A tiny Frenchman in bright red pants playing Vivaldi on his violin accompanied by the orchestra on his speakers.

It was stunning. It was beautiful and moving.

The Parisian's just kept on with their everyday morning routine…the woman going shopping with her basket, the guy in the pink sweater opening up his blue awning, the lady in yellow watching.