Synopsis

“You've seen me. I'm the man with the piano. I have a piano, a car, a trailer, a bicycle. I put the piano in the trailer that I hook up to the car: then, when I get close to the place I've chosen, I unload the piano, leave the car, attach the piano to the bike and get where I need to go. Then I play. For others, but above all for myself. You've seen me, I'm the pianist of Paris. I arrived the next day and saw blood on the ground. It looked like a painter had painted it on purpose, a trail as long and wide as a person. I got off the bike and played Imagine. But it wasn't the first, nor the last time. Because I'd already been in Istanbul after the flag riots, in Afghanistan among dust-covered soldiers, in New Orleans after the hurricane. But it's not true that I like to play where people are hurting: I like to play where people are. The hurting, yes, is always there, and it doesn't make a difference. Music, on the other hand, sometimes does.”