The moment Dayo handed the accordion back to the street performer, people moved toward him almost immediately, surrounding him with excited voices and flashing phones.
"Oh my God, that was amazing! What's the name of the song?"
"Yeah, I've never heard anything like that before."
"Is the song yours?"
Dayo nodded.
That simple response stunned them. Everything about the song had been flawless—the melody, the control, the emotion. His pronunciation was perfect. His intonation felt natural.
Then someone asked the question everyone was thinking.
"Are you from around here?" a man asked.
Dayo shook his head. "No. I'm from the United States."
Several people frowned in disbelief.
And who could blame them? Nothing about his voice sounded American. The way he sang in French felt native, effortless, like someone born into the language. It was only natural that many doubted him.
