She was sitting on the sidewalk at the corner of Pender and Hastings whaling on her guitar when I walked by at lunch one day this week. She had a sign in front of her that said: Sorry, I know I sound bad, but I have a cold. She sounded amazing, her voice a little more hoarse than usual perhaps. She was thin with bright pink hair, tattoos and nose rings, but there was a sweetness about her. I dropped a loonie into her hat. “You’re really good,” I said. “Nah, I’ve got a cold, so I don’t sound that great,” she apologized. “You would make more money on the westside,” I said. “I love Chinatown,” she said. “It reminds me of a certain corner in Toronto, had some happy times there. Things have been rough lately.” “You should post a video on Youtube,” I said. “I am on Youtube,” she says, “I’ve done a few gigs here and there.” “Well, you’re really good – and you would probably fare better on the westside.” “I dunno,” she says, “someone dropped a hundred dollar bill on me yesterday.” Lesson learned from a pink rocker.