Mitali Saran: The beat of your own drums

Or, why homeless musicians are a thing

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When I was seven, my mother found me at the kitchen table weeping with anxiety because I couldn’t see how I’d ever be able to pay rent. She laughed and said that everything would work out. But my dark foreboding came horribly true. At 44, I’m still at her kitchen table, and she isn’t laughing anymore. We have lived happily together for years, in a compact that has called for only a little accommodation of each other and even less logistical dependence. We have survived all kinds of delicate interpersonal situations, including a steady chorus of people strongly ...

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Mitali Saran: The beat of your own drums