I must have been ten, or nine, or eight. All I remember was this boy, sitting on a big black cycle, the cycle sitting on its stand, pedaling away continuously, and repeatedly singing this complete song. He sang loud and clear, and there was something in his voice that got to me. He sang like he meant every word.
It was the first song of my life, after nursery rhymes. The first song to become a set of lyrics, and meanings, and thoughts that evoked feelings. I had no idea, at that time, that songs were written and composed and sung by different people. Which is why, even today when I hear this song, it is the boy sitting on the cycle who sings, not for me, but for himself, and that is so very gut wrenching.