In the old part of Dubrovnik there is the harbor. In the old days, the harbor was really the reason the city even came to be there. It was one of the premier ports back in the day, ships constantly coming and going, being built and repaired. Huge ships carrying probably just about anything you might have needed. But the shipping and maritime trade industry has pretty much died down now.
There is a man in the old part of Dubrovnik. He holds a guitar. He's got a harmonica positioned in front of his mouth. Around one foot, a tambourine. He plays and sings with his open case at his feet, a few CDs for sale. He's not so different from any of the musicians you see in touristy areas. But he's the only one in Dubrovnik and he's impossible to miss. We stopped and talked to him for a bit. He told us, he would love to travel someday, there's so much to see. Someday if he has the money, he'd really like to go. He told us there was an American cruise ship scheduled to arrive the next day. The days when cruise ships arrived were usually pretty profitable, but there was a chance for rain. When it rained, it was not so good to be out playing.
"But if the weather stays clear and the ship arrives," he told us, "it should be a pretty good day."
With a steady bass line. It sounds like my heart on a spring day. And it is a bus ride and a track meet and some crushes that never panned out. The stripe on a jersey and the handle on a lunch box. It is waiting six hours to run three races in 15 minutes. It is driving around for three hours to catch a smile at a stoplight. It was IMing and the friend who told some chick that Chris Martin was his uncle. It is a season where you can do nothing but win and the next where you just lose. 
It was high school and waiting. It’s a shortness of breath and anticipation. The steady bass line of a heart. And it was called yellow.
