Madrid and Prado Museum Stories. Edgar

Turismo Madrid

The guitar chords played by Edgar greet visitors which approach the Prado Museum at the Jeronimos’ entrance. Before 10 am, opening time, a queue has formed where individual visitors talk, groups of Asian travelers take pictures and laugh while Edgar’s arpeggios rise above the noise, as if it were background music before a performance. At the beginning, I thought how lucky we were those that would stop for a moment, before entering or leaving the Prado, to enjoy the harmonic structures of “Torre Bermeja” or Remembrances of the Alhambra”, virtuously performed by a tireless Edgar. We talked for the first time at a bar, about football of course. Then, we shared the coincidences of places, old times and people. He told me that he was born in Argentina and had lived in Antofagasta, northern Chile. I told him that I was born in Chile, that I had never lived in Argentina, but that I loved the sound of his guitar.
Edgar’s harmonies greet us daily on the sidewalk in front of the Prado Museum. They become familiar, a poetic welcome or farewell linked invariably to the aesthetic experience which awaits us or lingers behind. Some visitors pass by, others make a stop, listen to the music and throw coins in the open guitar case on the ground. Some even buy a CD.
Day after day, sonata scales and classical studies flow masterfully out of Edgar’s guitar. Day after day, Edgar becomes the provider of his loved ones. He endures with a smile whatever incidents may arise while keeping alive the flame of hope. His music is a wall where bad feelings crash and vanish, and pessimistic predictions that surge uneasily in these uncertain times wither away suddenly. Edgar’s guitar becomes his instrument of strength and the music which embraces us as we arrive or leave the Prado Museum are a gift for all those which are fortunate enough to enjoy it.

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