Baker Street, on Friday afternoon. A young girl sat on the sidewalk with her guitar and sang a simple, beautiful song that captured the spirit of that blue-skied, hot August day.
Two city police officers, jocular but firm, stopped the music and moved her along.
Meanwhile, several vehicles with unmuffled exhausts, motorcycles mostly, blasted past us along Baker Street, drowning out conversation, song and beauty.
The police officers didn’t turn a hair.
Something wrong here?