Al Secunda - photo by Aslan Ahmadov

Once upon an evening, as I drove into the underground parking lot and stepped out of the car, I heard something entirely unexpected. Amidst the desolate silence of the underground, music soared, living music. The flute's enchanting melody echoed through the space, shimmering with every beautiful high note. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, as if not to disturb the melody, which fluttered like an exotic butterfly between the columns, its echoes bouncing off the walls.
Upon closer inspection, in the distance, I spotted a silver-haired man seated on the hood of his car, playing the instrument. I approached cautiously, trying to move soundlessly to avoid drawing the musician's attention. Yet, when I drew nearer, he noticed me and warmly smiled, causing his face to appear brighter.
The haunting melody of the flute, beautiful and unpredictable, filled the urban underground with an enchanting magic, breathing life into the tranquil space with the sounds of a live classical instrument. Together, in an extraordinary way, they resonated with the deepest strings of my soul. Unbeknownst to me, tears welled up in my eyes. I never expected to be so moved in the presence of a stranger.
As the musician concluded his performance, wiping a damp cheek with sleeve, I approached him and extended a welcoming hand. "I'm Al," he introduced himself.
Awkwardly realizing that I had no cash to show my gratitude for the joy he had bestowed, I understood that I couldn't thank him in a conventional way. Glancing around, I noticed there were no donation boxes for street musicians, let alone one in the underground.
After a brief conversation, I learned that he simply indulged in the acoustics of playing beneath the ground. I felt compelled to do something for him. We exchanged contacts. Upon arriving home and searching his name, I discovered that the musician, who had touched my soul so profoundly, was, in fact, a writer and author of several books translated into many languages – Al Secunda.
A few days later, we met again. I hadn't encountered someone with such cultivated amiability and delightful humor for a long time. We talked for hours, oblivious to the café's closing time where we sat. I suggested taking his portrait. After the photo session, we continued chatting, oblivious to the nightfall.
It seemed that I had found a new friend in America.
I wish to share with you some of the photographs from that shoot.
P.S. Al is 78 years old! An incredible individual! Such vitality and energy are a rare find in any young man.
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https://aslanahmadov.com