Gemotions

The bustling marketplace was usually a source of energy for Noah, but today he felt listless, his steps slow. He had a creative rut. His latest album was stuck in development hell. The bright colors of the stalls felt too intense, the chatter overwhelming.

He heard the opening chords of his song, “Forgotten Fields," coming from a street performer. The guy was butchering it, singing off-key, changing the tempo, and adding unnecessary embellishments. Noah felt a sinking sensation.

He just stood there for a moment, absorbing the sound, his shoulders slumping. His song was being disrespected in public, and there was nothing he could do. He turned and walked away, the music chasing him down the street.