The door of a little cosy cafe is open to the crowdy street. It's a special day for this small town, the long historical street is lined with stalls where women and men sell ham, strawberries, home-made cakes, handicrafts and other nice things. Children enjoy ice cream and cotton candies. 

Sometimes someone walks into the cafe, takes a cup of  coffee and sits besides the window. Not many visitors. 

A young man enters the room, he seems to know the women who serve, as he talks with them something. Then he sits behind the piano in the corner and starts to play. He plays some classical pop.music. I don't know wether he plays well or not. It's beautiful anyway. Another visitor enters. A bit older man, the kind of human being whom people categorize as retarded. He wears an old cap, wide  trousers, strong glasses and a smile. The triumphant smile of a one who has been clever enough to find a treasure. He has heard the music and came in. He stands in the middle of the room, smiling and nodding. 

Suddenly it's the moment when you realize the hidden beauty of  life. When you regret that have lived all these years without noticing it. When you want most of all to keep this feeling, this understanding, to live every second being able to perceive life this way.

Beautiful people on the street buy ham and strawberries. One beautiful man is playing piano. One beautiful man is listening and smiling.

One woman has met beautiful God.