She sits with a smile, sticks in hand, and a bucket flipped upside down. No fancy speakers, rhythm, laughter, and the drive to create something from nothing. In the township, buckets became drums, pavements became stages, and kids like her became composers of their own joy. We'd try to imitate popular songs, remix them with our own style, and turn ordinary afternoons into concerts. The music echoed through the hood, sometimes off-beat, but always full of soul.
