Editor’s Note: The opinions expressed in this piece are solely those of the author.
Music used to fill the streets of downtown Seattle. A saxophonist, pianist, drummers, and vocalists could be heard on an afternoon as tourists filled the streets near Pike Market. On a sunny day, hungry diners, curious foodies, and fans of all ages and ethnicities formed long lines to eat at Biscuit Bitch. On some days, you can hear at a distance the stoic sound of the Erhu, the notes caused by the friction of the bow against the strings would bend around the buildings to reach you to let you know of the richness of the diverse cultures that exist among us. If you followed the tune of the Erhu it led you to an elderly Chinese gentleman sitting by himself near 3rd and Pike, a region considered to be the heart of the city. Sometimes he’d look up, offer a gentle smile, then quickly return to his instrument. If you stopped and closed your eyes you can almost feel and catch a glimpse of his life’s journey in the music he played. Seattle felt like a place where everyone belonged.