His name is Deway and he was practicing his saxophone in Prospect Park one afternoon in October 2012. He played Autumn in New York for a Swedish tourist as I watched from a bench. During one of his breaks, he turned to me. We talked about the sanctity of the very spot he chose as his stage for the day. He asked me what my “thing” was because I felt like a singer to him. I told him I’m a writer. He said again that I was a singer. For another few songs, I sat there and he continued to play. It felt like a private concert just for me. I thought it silly to attempt to capture the entire moment with a photo but I’m glad I did. The moment now lives within my reach every day and am grateful Prospect Park provided the setting for it. I love Prospect Park. It can be a stage, a private place, and an intersection for souls to meet.