It's a totally different place. I stepped out of my car's passenger seat and entered into the world of trolleys and tracks. City horns and loud soul music blasted over the entire street of uniqueness. The trolleys glided through the city and seemed to bury the burdens of its passengers under the cold, hard ground. Faces lit up with the rich cultural identity that had been ingrained into their souls. These people lived, breathed, and died of music.
You step out of the crowd and become an unfamiliar face among the many talents of musicians, artists, filmmakers, photographers, and dancers only to realize that you are very much the same as them all. They all crave to be somebody, to do something great with their lives, and to leave a legacy as great as the beaten road put before them to follow.
A land full of both tourists and domestics engulf the melody and arise to a sea of tapping feet, swinging hips, and rocking heads. You look down the street to see a group of people dancing across the historical hometown in which they came. It's magnificent, really. It's a place to call a home. It's a place to find the faces of Memphis, Tennessee.