When I was eleven, I took saxophone lessons. Downtown, in a dim and dusty room above the music shop that doesn’t exist anymore. I lasted six months. I think it took me that long to even get it to make a sound.
It’s still one of my favorite instruments to hear played, especially on the streets of New York. Sometimes there’d be a sax player on the corner of 34th and 5th, and if I opened my office window, it would rise up, distinguish itself from the street noise, and change the entire day.