Violin Boy

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Lan Zhan pauses as he comes to his apartment block, looking at the patch of blue gentian flowers someone had planted in the patch of soil around the base of the tree.

The little elm tree was still throwing out roots, tied to a stick and hoping to grow big and strong. In this urban concrete jungle, this was the only splash of colour, and the deep blue of these very personal blooms gave him hope that this wasn't a bad step. That coming here to New York wasn't the biggest mistake he had made in his life.

His first finger edges past the stiff white collar around his neck, loosening it as much as is possible without ripping his tie off.

Coming to New York was his brother's idea, a way for Lan Zhan to make his mark in the business world. But coming here, to this bricks-and-mortar artificial world was slowly sucking the life out of him, and Lan Zhan was in a quiet despair.

The gritty dirty streets did nothing to alleviate his stress, a culmination from the tension of the day spent in his tiny office, with deadlines that seemed never ending, and a list of tasks that needed to be completed yesterday. Traffic, with the bustling yellow taxis and their shouting drivers, the constant horns going off, impromptu and sudden sirens blaring to life and giving the nearest pedestrian a coronary.

Vendors screaming at the top of their lungs to sell their products, the strange smoke rising up through vents in the ground, and the general feeling that nobody had any time to spare.

Every single person was rushing through the streets going somewhere, or coming back from somewhere and this constant exchange of frenzied energy was fraying his nerves.

There were only three things that gave him a small amount of relief, and unfortunately, all of them took precious minutes away from him.

Two streets over was the flower market.

A haven of colour and scent, Lan Zhan had found his mother's beloved gentians flourishing in pots that he had enthusiastically taken home to look after, but he had forgotten to water them and found them dead just a week later.

The sight was too depressing for him to attempt keeping them again.

Now when things got too tough, and he felt the walls of his apartment closing in on him, Lan Zhan would seek solace in that street, walking among the many flowering beauties as they blossomed, lighting up this corner of his world.

Sweet jasmine, fragrant lilies, cascading vine flowers, pansies in exploding bunches of vivid purple, scarlet and orange, red roses to capture hearts in passionate love stories, and amazing white lotus flowers.

Beautiful orange trees, lemon trees and pineapple plants decorating the concrete slabs lessened the weight on his shoulders and gave him back some of his humanity.

There were other flowers too, monstrous blooms in pinks and yellows with spiky petals that looked as if they could turn around and eat him, instead.

And seven blocks over, there was a park.

Tall sycamore trees rose high up sandwiched by elms and chestnut-bearing oaks brought the park alive, with a water fountain in the centre of the place, and sometimes Lan Zhan would find himself sitting on a park bench with his eyes closed.

Just the sound of the sparrows and starlings scavenging off the leftovers dropped by the visitors to the park eased his mind, allowing broken pieces of tranquillity enter his heart.

There are more colourful flowers planted along the street, Lan Zhan notices now, as his steps hasten towards his building.

Someone had taken the trouble to plant these, Lan Zhan thinks, because they certainly weren't there in the morning when he left for work. He takes a moment to appreciate them, appreciate the sacrifice of time and trouble that someone undertook in giving this gift to all who pass by, lighting up their faces with rare smiles that otherwise would have remained absent.

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