a_gift raze we weren't going to let him in the house. but when i saw his face, i knew he was the kind of stranger who could be trusted. neat grey beard. hair hidden beneath a beret. a jacket like the one i wear. something that'll keep you warm enough to live through winter, though it wasn't made with the cold in mind. he didn't want the mandolin for himself. he said he didn't play. it was a gift for his stepson. "he just has music in his head all the time," he said, his face full of admiration for a man his daughter loved into his life. "and he plays whatever he hears." i was like that once. he didn't haggle over the price. he didn't ask me to play for him either, but i did, striking the four doubled metal strings with my fingernails so he'd know what he was buying. i never really touched the thing when it was mine. now it gets to be someone else's christmas present, and i've got a bit of money in my pocket. even trade. 221210 what's it to you? who go blather from