Book3:WereMyDreamIs

attheywerehearingandthrewdownmoreandmoresandpaperbills.Peopleinthecrowdwerepointingandchatteringsaying,

    “Hey,look!Themusipyingthesaxophoneisblind!Hisclothesaresooldandraggedyhelookslikeahomelessperson;buthismusiotbad!”

    “What’sseaboutthat?Theviolinistseemsfamiliar.HelookslikeMr.Kaffee,thatmobsterthatdomihtheunderworldandtheworldofhighfinanceawhileback.Yah,yah,that’shim,that’shimalright!Howeheissodesperatenowthathehasbeeastreetmusiinthepanyofhobos?Buthisviolinperformanceisfirstcss!”

    “Hey,Iknowthatdrummer.HeisJamaz.ThatonepyingthebaseguitarisRichard.Thesetwoareinseparablepals.Whentheywereflushwithcashtheylivedalifeofdebauchery,eatingdrinkingandwomanizing.Whenthemoneywasgoheywould