Living Statue in Adare

We sat close to each other on a plaza park bench. A warm sun cheered us as we shared generous, deliciously sticky cold scoops of Adare Creamery honeycomb and raisin rum ice cream. A living statue--a street performer whose sharp, angular blackened face and lean body clad in a worn, ragged suit--stood nearby, motionless. The corner on which he stood was crowded  with tourists, locals and school children, all scurrying by, scarcely noticing him.

He stood stock still, occasionally shifting on his feet or bending slightly at the waist. I couldn't believe that no one seemed to notice him, much less stop to admire his work.

I bummed a 2 Euro coin off Elliott, gathered up my courage, and walked toward him. I looked into his eyes for a brief moment, then bent down and dropped the coin into his little treasure box.

A broad smile spread across his face, and then he held out his arm in a gesture that suggested I stand with him for a moment. He didn't say a word. I slipped my hand under his arm, turned, and smiled with him for Elliott's camera.