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It was a bright sunny day in the park. Children laughed and ran, playing their own made-up games, while protective adults smiled and watched them, picnicking beneath the shade of the leafy trees. A man walked along the sidewalk, a heavy guitar case in his hand, observing the children and enjoying the lovely day. This man loved music, thought that every minute of every day should be filled with it. So he decided he’d play his instrument, thinking maybe some people might get enjoyment out of it. He sat down on the grass, pulled out his acoustic guitar, and began to play. He wove wondrous melodies of music; the very trees seemed to wave in delight from it. Everyone in the park seemed to enjoy it as well, smiling at him in approval. That is, until a policeman appeared. He seemed angry, yelling about how the music man was disturbing the peace with his unnecessary noise. The policeman grabbed for the guitar, trying to take it away. This angered the music man. This was his instrument, the one thing he could speak with in a language understood by all, that which he expressed his every emotion and thought. No words could replace the music he made with his guitar. The fact that some unknowing policeman was trying to take this away from the man made him incredibly angry. He refused to give up his guitar. Next thing he knew, the music man was sitting in court, being charged with assaulting an officer. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, but they said he had broken the policeman’s nose. The man told everyone that he could never hurt someone like that, that he couldn’t even recall throwing a punch, but no one listened. The music man received a sentence of three years in federal prison.