Sometimes humans get turned on for something for no specific events triggered them. In my case, I suddenly got confined by desire to busk anywhere outside, when I was killing weekend as usual. In ordinary Saturday morning, I grabbed my acoustic guitar “Karen” and immediately headed on to near subway station, a hot spot in Bundang city. I made my stage right in front of the 4th exit of Jeongja station, only with Karen, her case, and some of my belongings. Two-square-meters large space on the sidewalk became mine. I stood up, shouldered Karen, and placed her case in front of me, opened to collect bills if possible. Standard tune, EADGBE, Karen was prepared to rock ’n roll; but the thing is, I wasn’t. My right hand was trembling like an infant that caught a cold, nearly going to drop the pick in a second. I had to perform in front of strangers passing by! Neither my family, friends nor neighbors acquainted in sight, all totally new faces. Anyway I strummed the strings in a soft A minor, and started with “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” in version of Eric Clapton.

“Hey boy, nice playing. I don’t understand English but I can assure that lyrics were great!”

A mid-aged gentleman wearing white shirts with smudges all around it, spoke within a distance. He was a shoemaker mending shoes on a cordwainer located right next to my stage. He should have holding shoes and cloth if usual; instead of those, he handed me a bottle of vitamin drink.

“Take care of your voice, young boy. You have plenty of years to show your performances to the world, and you must be thankful for having such a time of youth. I, too, once dreamed myself singing in front of hundred strangers…”

He grinned softly, but I could read regrets of youth from his sad eyes. Perhaps he was somehow admiring my youthfulness full of health and spirit. I clearly read his mind, but couldn’t respond to him - not even a simple “Thank you, sir” - because I never was an ambitious young boy but rather scared of new places, people, and their reactions of criticism or neglect which didn’t even happen yet. I was yet only desperate hiding myself from awkwardness, instead of challenging over it as a passionate young musician, no matter where I stood, who I stood in front of. Embarrassed, I returned home with no further performances.

A week passed from then, I visited the 4th exit again. For my second try, I tried to be bold and let my fear go away.

“Just pretend that you’re only talking to Karen, with a language called music.”

I spoke to myself. Standard tune, EADGBE, this time I played “Layla” in unplugged version, sung by Eric Clapton in similar age of mine. I wanted to pull out my ambitiousness of youth, like Clapton in his twenties did to burst himself and cry his love for a lady Layla. I closed my eyes and felt the vibration transferred from the bronze strings. Numerous emotions burst like an adrenaline carrying ecstasy through the veins. I opened my eyes when I heard infrequent applauses from far away. Quite a lot of people were staring at me. Some were filming with their phones, enjoying flowing melodies sitting on a bench, even tossing coins and papers in my guitar case. Proud of increasing audiences, I played three more songs and packed to get home. Heading to home, I bought a bottle of vitamin water with my earnings, and it tasted much better than last week.

Contrary to my characteristic of naming my stuffs like “Karen” on my guitar, I haven’t yet named my outdoor stage; I still call there as 4th exit of Jeongja station. Perhaps it’s because the place itself distinctly has a joint ownership of everyone including me, and my unspecific audiences. Unlike other concert stadiums, 4th exit of Jeongja Station will be never named as a stage; It will remain as an opened space forever, where I can communicate with audiences with the words of melody and rhythm.

Standard tune, EADGBE, I’ll meet diverse people along with my guitar, “Karen”, forever.