The city was asleep somehow. A small Blanket of fog had fallen on the cobblestone streets, a still quiet in its company. Declan preferred it like this, dead, stony and cold. It was in complete contrast to what it usually was: vibrant, alive, beautiful. Now it was eerie, and much more fitting.
 He was out early, and for good reason. He had to prepare. To write his set. [i]A new city, a new song,[/i] he thought to himself, [i]Makes it harder to track you that way [/i]. He wrote his words down and breathed magic into them softly, sitting on the cold and lonely bench, before pulling his guitar out of her case.
***

 The street was now busier. It was an animal of a tourist road, packed with faces, voices; a river that steadily flowed into a mouth that turned into a square, the city promenade. 
 Declan surveyed the crowd, and decided the time was right. 
He stood on the bench and strummed Amie. She resonated, and the air changed. The sweet, warm chord moved through the throng and tickled their hearts. Smiles broke out, some curious, some joyous, some surprised. As Declan played, a stream of goodwill seemed to emanate from him. The crowd was drawn to him, and they pressed up around the bench. He sang the words he had written only a few hours before, about love, and miracles, hope, friendship. The Intensity escalated. 
A woman towards the front of the crowd started shouting in joy- her arthritis had left her. A man knelt down on one knee and proposed to the woman next to him, who exploded into an emotional agreement. Children played. All the while, Declan played and played, watching those around him.