Christy

“Bring it. Just fucking bring it. Stand tall, Grandma Nora had told
him: he would stand tall, with the spotlights shining on his face, and
his music would pour into all their ears, and they would understand
that no matter what anybody threw at him, he was not going away He
was not stooping to their level. The air-conditioning could go off and
he could melt. They could toss any piece of crappy music they wanted
at him and he would play. He would not be ignored or denied or
embarrassed ever again: he was a musician, and music had no color.”
― Brendan Slocumb, The Violin Conspiracy