A long, low fluting whistle waivers in the air. As it comes closer, you gather up your knives. A young boy with a backpack leads his blind father by one arm. He blows the whistle again, the note long and wailing, dropping an octave in the end.
The neighbors begin to gather with their kitchen knives, garden clippers, axes, and scissors. The boy removes his pack and sets up a tiny bench with a hand crank grinding stone attached. The boy helps his father sit down on it and lays clean rags out nearby. The blind man reaches out and the boy carefully places the first customer's knife in his hand.
The neighbors watch and gossip quietly amongst themselves, while with swift, skilled movements, the blind man sharpens the blade to a razor's edge, wipes the knife with a rag and passes it back to the boy handle first. The boy and the blind man continue this ritual until all the utensils on this street are sharp and gleaming.
Money is exchanged and the boy helps his father to his feet, then carefully packs away the grinding bench and rags into the backpack. The neighbors disperse and the boy and the blind man continue down the street. The beautiful, haunting whistle floats in the air, calling to the next group of customers.
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