As the clock nears 10 p.m., the already-compact audience has dwindled down to fewer than 20 people. The 12th performer of the night, Chapman Grace , makes her way onto the stage carrying a sleek white electric guitar, her dangling gold earrings shining in the blue-purple light. This isn’t her first open mic. She plugs in her guitar and addresses the sparse crowd with the same comfortable familiarity of the many musicians that performed before her. When she starts to play, the room’s stellar acoustics cradle the hazy, enchanting sound so dreamily you feel like you are inside of her guitar. Her hands leap across the fretboard, producing sounds I didn’t even know were possible — sounds as cathartic as stepping into a warm ocean. For such a beautiful performance, the size of the audience fee

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