I think I like the bass the most, upright bass thrumbling almost in tune with the accordian, just a little quieter as the lady with the violin sings something in a language I can't quite place, Eastern European maybe, maybe my ancestors sang this song, or maybe the ancestors of the yuppies-turned-parents meandering at a 3-year-old's gait throught this parking lot filled with people and produce. "You hold the green paper," one mother says, and the daughter stares at it bewildered and curious as both steer out towards the busy sidewalk. Another song now, and the crowd clears so I can see the sign tilted half-covered in coins in the violin case, maybe it says "La Bolshevik," the trio finishes a rousing whatever and thanks the thinning crowd, how nice it must be to jam in the sunshine.