Two worlds apart

He was playing a roumanian traditional tune, mumbling bits of a sad chant. I put a coin in his hat and he smiled a humble smile. My daughter was totally captured by the accordion. 

He asked in his uncertain italian how old was the child and told me, using his hands that he had seven nephews and that he came from Rumania. 

I asked him if I could take a photo; he agreed politely and played again.