Old Man erenading the birds on my last day of school

My last day of College. Ever. And I come outside to the courtyard. The old man sits, as usual on the black bench. One leg rests on his black aged guitar case, his hands reaching and spreading to find different chords. The sounds of the city are here too, but only as faded background to this old man's Spanish-sounding strumming. He doesnt sing along, but a low, gutteral sound echoes from his throat. Like a chant, almost. He is completely focused on his guitar, unaware of the birds, or the people. I come outside and I feel like Ive entered into a pocket of a foreign land. It is a beautiful evening. And I am done with School tonight.