I heard him before I saw him, this lone cellist in the middle of the SeaTac airport. His music was amazing but what struck me was the look on his face. He was lost in the moment, his face matched by the one carved on the cello's scroll, his eyes a thousand miles away as he carved notes from strings he knew by touch from decades of practice. He was invisible to everyone around him, focused as they were on their next destination. But in that moment, he was home.