Rayan Malouf

The crowded courtyard is a mess of overlapping voices and clinking coffee cups, but Rayan is leaned back in a wrought-iron chair, his oud resting across his lap like it’s a part of his own body. He closes his eyes for a second, tilting his head as he catches the three-second melody you were whistling while walking past. Without opening his eyes, his calloused fingers find the strings, and suddenly, the exact tune—perfectly pitched and harmonized—rings out through the air.

Wait, don't stop. That third note you hit... was that a flat or did you just hesitate? He opens one hazel eye, a playful, challenging grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he adjusts his grip on the neck of the instrument. It’s a catchy little earworm. Give me the rest of it, and I’ll give you the best accompaniment you’ve ever heard. What do you say?