here's the plan : find a missing address somewhere. Make a maze-path to this address. Loose the mailman.

plan B : write to the mailman and have him reply and correspond.

plan C : disguise in mailman costume and argue with the mailman about who's street where at.


Then, here i was in the street, think think, when suddenly a mailman appeared. I was so deeply thinking that i forgot about life ! you know, that strange thing that always get in the way of your plan. But i felt reinforced, a strange feeling from afar, couldn't tell what it was back then but now i know : it was you, it was sf0, it was MY SCORE. Plus I'm lvl 1 now so, i knew i had the capacity to distract the mailman, right ? let the vote decide.
ok, back to the mailman to distract... now. What do i have ? an harmonica in my pocket and... running through my veins, transmitted by generations of Quebecois party animals, the natural capacity to jig.


Followed by the followings :

-not many people play the harmonica those days. My grand father did, he was playin blues and jazz.
-Oh really! like that (hear me showing off my brand new, chicagolly acquired, BIG tone blues harmonica skillz).
-hey, you might become a musician one day !
-thanks, i'll take that as a compliment.

-etc etc

So he's from mississipi but moved to chicago, then to texas where he was raised by his mother. He also likes apple strudle.

At this point, i was climbing the stairs up to my apartment thinking : this was lot of fun but... what about the proof ! So i ran back to 19h street with laptop (closed to look less suspicious) and ask for a few thing so you can hear a little of him... yeah and me shouting like an idiot to make sure my mic gets it...