The place is the operational fire training building, including furniture and an old piano donated by a good colleague, Dave. Dave is no longer with us, nor has been for many years now but his memory lives on. The time, one winter's evening. I am alone in the darkened concrete structure, the big fire of wooden pallets is ready to light. This is my last time in this building in which I had worked for many years training firefighters in the use of breathing apparatus.
As I typed the above, for some unknown reason the fire alarm in my house went off, I stopped typing to go and check. . there was no reason for the alarm which sounded only briefly. . . and has never done this before. Perhaps it was Dave's spirit just letting me know he's still about, or perhaps someone else, just letting me know that there is still some connection. Most odd. My fears are allayed by thinking so.
As I waited alone I wandered the building checking that all was safe and ready for the visiting retained fire crews that would be training that evening. I lifted the lid of the piano that by now had seen much better days, and played a few notes. I had more skill in moving them than playing them though I must say.
I'd set the camera up on timer so couldn't make a nice pose, however, it is a reminder of the passing of many things, life, time, friendships, duty, and sadness too.
Music for my ears only, just as it will always be so.