There’s something about the harmonica that gets me every time.

Maybe, it’s the simplicity.
Maybe, it’s the rhythm and blurred notes that form a hazy melody.
Maybe, it’s the whistling of inherent sadness.

But for me, it touches something deeper.
Some intrinsic instinct that connects music to our souls.

To me, the harmonica is a promise.

A promise that anybody can learn something new and can make a little dent of a sound in this big universe.

A promise that there is a whole world out there to see. Small hands, big hands, blue or wrinkled hands can play the harmonica.

No matter where you are in your journey, the harmonica will always sound inescapably like a harmonica.

Maybe that shiny, metal box is just the kind of pocket-sized assurance I need.