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A family of beggars travels with a hand-cranked piano, playing it in towns and villages while collecting money. The boy pushes a metal plate to collect coins from people, while the woman signals him to go to certain places. They travel in a cart pulled by a donkey and make very little money. The piano sounds out of tune, and the man often leaves to buy wine with the earnings. The woman and the boy continue to play and collect money. A few years ago, I came across some people who traveled the world with a hand-cranked piano. They were a family of true beggars, except that instead of standing on a corner with their hand out, they traveled through towns and villages playing the instrument and passing the hat. Don't you like colorful characters, circus people, and strange artists? I liked them a lot. I approached the family and looked at them in the face. They were a man, a woman, and a 10-year-old boy. The boy, as you can imagine, ran through the streets pushing people with a metal plate in his hand. The woman stood next to the piano, looking at the balconies and windows, and when she saw a head appear, she signaled the boy to go there. The boy stood upright, and the people upstairs dropped some coins into the plate. They traveled in a cart, a small carriage with a sail, and carried the piano cart, hand-cranked piano, half-wheels, like a trailer. A patient donkey dragged all the little train, with no small effort. When they arrived in a town, they parked the cart and the animal, and they pushed the piano to the central streets where they started their concert. Do you make any money with this? I asked them. The man named Manuel from Andalusia told me very little, just enough to eat. The repertoire they had consisted of nine songs, or melodies. The titles were displayed on a sign hanging next to the piano. All the songs were popularized by the radio, very vulgar. Moreover, the turner who prepared the cylinders either knew little about music or deceived them, because the pieces they played sounded very out of tune. Colorful people, as I said, Manuel, or Manuel, as he called himself, immediately left the crank to his wife, and she continued to turn, turn while the man went to the boy, grabbed a handful of coins from the plate, and quickly entered the wine shop. He must be thirsty, I commented to the woman. She shrugged. He always does that. Otherwise, how could he bear it? I understood why the man had said they barely made enough money to eat. If half of the proceeds went into glasses of wine, and you? I asked, pointing to her and the boy. Us? And do you expect us to bear if he, my husband, can't bear it? It was clear. The woman continued to turn, turn.