Mitar was a remarkable clarinet player. He played with his soul at every ceremony that he attended. As soon as he put the clarinet to his lips, it would create magical sounds in which the listeners could find everything their lives were made from. There was sadness and joy as well as longing and sorrow. Sometimes, the set of tones were hopeful and sometimes regretful. He played for himself not even hiding the most subtle feelings. He mostly played for free.
He played in a small village that week. A curious crowd of people made a circle around the orchestra creating a good mood. The dance circle increased and the dancers followed the rhythm. Mitar played the instrument using all his heart.
Someone pulled him once or twice up his sleeve in the middle of a gig… Mitar looked at a middle-aged man who had something important to tell him.
“You play beautifully and you have no match for that…”, he heard the man say. “…but didn’t you see your pants are ripped?”
Mitar looked at him with a smile, not surprised at all by what he has heard. He readily answered:
“Oh, well, what can I do? I left my new pants at home for a woman to patch.”, he smiled at the man and continued playing. Šolkotović Snežana