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MidReal Story
The Trumpeter's Melody
Scenario: para Crear un video **1.1. Elementos Principales Punto Focal: El Trompetista Colócalo en el centro de la
composición. Dibuja su postura relajada pero dinámica mientras interpreta música: Brazos ligeramente flexionados sosteniendo la trompeta. Cara concentrada, con gafas de leer y bigote cuidadosamente recortado. Facciones refinadas que transmiten calidez y experiencia. Vestimenta informal: jeans desgastados, camiseta blanca, zapatillas azules claras. 2. Entorno Urbano Detalles Arquitectónicos: Fachadas antiguas de edificios con balcones adornados por macetas de flores (rojas, amarillas, naranjas). Toldos coloridos (azul, rojo, beige) sobre las tiendas y mesas improvisadas. Calles empedradas con piedras irregulares que crean textura visual. **Atmósfera Cultural: Público diverso interactuando alrededor del músico: Personas escuchando atentamente, algunas sentadas en sillas de plástico. Familias compartiendo platos típicos madrileños como cocido, bocadillos de calamares y tortilla española. Niños jugando cerca o mirando al trompetista con curiosidad. Ancianos sentados en bancos disfrutando del momento. 3. Iluminación y Color Luz Primaveral: Usa tonos cálidos para representar la luz dorada del sol primaveral. Aplica sombras suaves para dar profundidad sin opacar la escena. Colores vibrantes: Azul claro de las zapatillas del trompetista. Rojos y amarillos de las flores en los balcones. Marrones ricos del jamón ibérico y otros alimentos tradicionales. Plateado brillante de la trompeta reflejando la luz solar. 4. Detalles finales Texturas Naturales: Arrugas sutiles en la ropa del trompetista para dar realismo. Madera o metal en las mesas y sillas. Pavimento irregular con Elementos Sensoriales: "Aromas visuales" de la comida mediante detalles como vapor saliendo de los platos. Reflejos del sol en objetos metálicos, como la trompeta y cubiertos en las mesas.
Create my version of this story
Trumpeter
creative, and introspective. As he plays his trumpet, he reflects on his past and the people around him. He notices the vibrant colors of the scene, the food, and the audience's reactions. His music brings joy to those listening, including a young girl who dances to his rhythm. His performance is a moment of connection with the community.
Girl Dancer
carefree, and expressive. As she dances to the trumpeter's music, her movements capture everyone's attention. Her joy is contagious and adds to the festive atmosphere of the scene. Her presence highlights the impact of music on people's lives and how it brings happiness to those around her.
Old Man
observant, and appreciative. He watches the trumpeter with interest and enjoys his performance. His presence adds depth to the scene as he represents a generation that appreciates tradition and community gatherings. His calm demeanor contrasts with the lively atmosphere around him but contributes to its richness.
The Trumpeter
I don’t know how I got to this place, to this life, to this moment in which I’m holding my trumpet and playing with my heart.
The square is full of people, but I only see colors.
Light blue of my sneakers.
Yellow and red of the flowers in the balconies.
Brown of the tables and chairs.
Silver of my trumpet reflecting the sun.
Green of the leaves of the trees.
All those colors mixed in a beautiful mess.
I’m in the middle, in the focal point, and that makes me happy.
I feel at home and that’s what matters.
I don’t know how I got here, but that’s not important now.
What matters is the music coming out of me, the spring breeze, the people listening.
I’m not performing for anyone; I’m performing with everyone.
We’re all together in this moment, in this square, in this life.
My mind travels to my childhood, to my parents holding me tight while I cried for no reason, to my first day at school clutching my favorite teddy bear, to my teenage years when music became my passion and love.
I remember my first trumpet, second-hand but shining new to me, and the first notes I played.
The wrong ones for a long time but eventually the right ones.
My mind travels to Spain, to Madrid, to this square and all the squares before this one.
To every note I’ve played until this moment and to every person that has listened.
The music flows freely, like a river, and it reaches everyone.
The notes dance in the air and they catch the attention of a young girl.
She starts to twirl around, graceful and carefree.
The people smile at her and I feel their energy.
I see an old man sitting on a bench, his eyes closed, remembering other times when he was in this square listening to music.
I play for him; I play a melody that reminds me of the traditional Spanish songs.
He smiles and opens his eyes, looking at me.
He taps his foot with the rhythm and I feel more connected to him.
"Do you know this song?" the old man asks, his voice a soft rasp that carries the weight of years.
I nod, pausing for a moment, "My father used to play it every Sunday morning; it's how I learned to love music."
His eyes light up with recognition, "Your father... was he Javier? The trumpeter who played here decades ago?"
I nod, the melody still resonating in the air.
The old man smiles, "I knew him. He was a good man and a great musician. I used to listen to him every Sunday morning. He taught me to love music."
His words are like a gentle breeze that carries memories of my father.
I can almost smell the scent of his cologne, feel the warmth of his embrace.
The old man's eyes sparkle with nostalgia, "He taught me to play this song on my guitar. It brings back so many memories."
He pauses, lost in thought for a moment.
Then, he looks at me and smiles, "You have your father's spirit; you bring joy to people through music."
I smile back at him, feeling a sense of pride and connection to my father.
I continue playing, letting the music flow from my heart.
The notes dance in the air, filling the square with happiness and nostalgia.
The old man taps his foot again, this time with more energy.
He sings along with the melody, his voice cracking but full of emotion.
The people around us smile and clap along with the rhythm.
The music brings us all together, creating a sense of community and connection.
As I finish playing, I feel a sense of accomplishment and joy.
I look at the old man and smile, feeling grateful for the connection we shared through music. A woman steps forward from the crowd, her eyes meeting mine with a spark of familiarity.
She carries a guitar slung over her shoulder, its polished wood glistening in the sunlight.
"I knew your father," she says, her voice steady yet warm.
"He taught me to play."
Her words stir something within me, a mix of curiosity and nostalgia.
I nod, gesturing for her to join me.
She sits beside me on the bench, tuning her guitar with practiced ease.
"I remember him teaching me this very song," she says, her fingers plucking a gentle melody that complements my trumpet.
I smile, feeling the music weave a tapestry of shared memories between us.
"Let's play it together," I suggest, and as our instruments harmonize, the square fills with echoes of the past and promises of new beginnings.
