Johnnie Hobbs, III, Mar 2012
Headed to rehearsal in Philly I spotted an old man dressed in pleaded pants and brown loafers. He wore a plain brown baseball cap, thick-rimmed eye glasses and a plaid shirt. He danced quickly on the pavement, mapping out a dance step he had learned what seemed to be ages ago, not missing a beat. The light-footed dance style didn’t match up with the youthful, angry music of the present day. But he didn’t care. Most ignored him while some starred and laughed, others threw money on the ground.