Music flowed out from the old acoustic guitar in his hands as he played the songs that he had written himself. People were gathered all around him, but the guitarist showed no signs of noticing. There were only two things in the world at that moment. There was him, and his music.

The people all around were deathly silent, it was as if they didn't want to break the  most expensive set of fine china in the world. Even little children stood still and stared in awe at the pictures he was weaving with his guitar and the notes combining to create the music that completed his soul.

Each note was a different color in the pictures that swirled around him on the air. All the notes weaved together of their own accord to create pictures of his most treasured memories, and the most beautiful places he'd ever seen. All of the notes, music, and pictures came straight from the core of his being, his soul.

The scenery that was forming looked so beautiful in the simplistic colors that made up the notes. It seemed like it was a rich forest fill of evergreen trees, and a few maple trees here and there. It was autumn and the leaves were falling. Oranges, yellows, and red hues made the leaves, the light blues were the wind, the browns and blacks were the shadows and tree bark, the white and light greys were the clouds, and the medium tone blues were the sky. Suddenly the picture was set into motion to illustrate the scenes that he had seen while he was there.

The picture changed, and there he was standing on a bridge as a stream gurgled over the smoothed over pebbles on the bottom. Each pebble was a different hue of greys and blues, the water was as close to transparent as it could be with the simple colors, and the bridge was brown, dark grey, and black. He was standing on the bridge and he was nothing more than an outline of light orange. There were a few trees, they were simple greens and browns. The picture stared moving. He walked across the bridge as the water rushed under it. There were a few birds that flew from the trees and landed on the rails of the bridge, and one landed on his shoulder. He smiled and them and reached out to pet them, but at the last second the simple bright red birds flew away and danced through the simple light blue sky. A smile crossed his face, and then the scene changed again.

This time it changed into a city image. The buildings were black, and the sun was setting. There were lines of orange hues, red tints, pink highlights, and purple shadows. The lights in the windows of the bulidings were all hues of yellows. The sun was a brilliant half-circle of orange-yellow. It was a beautiful sunset over the city. The picture was still, and then it was in motion just as the others had been. Lights in the windows were blinking on and off, and the sun continued to lower in the sky.

The music started to get slower, and soon enough it stopped all together. The pictures faded away, but the music and the memories that he had shared with them were in their memories forever, they would remember his memories as if they were their own.

He smiled at his audience and started to pack up, he said nothing, but his smile said it all. There was a happiness in it, it showed them how glad he was that they had seen what he was, and what made him. With a wave he turned and walked into the city, and then disappeared down the street.

The people dispersed, but they were changed. They'd never be the same again, but it was in a good way. They saw the world in a better way, a way where things were more good than evil, and if there was an evil done, they should try to fix it. That one man had changed them with his music, and his memories, they could never express in words how much it meant to them. There was another way, and he had showed that to them.

Music was the answer.