I thought this so sweet and so sad at the same time. A good friend who lived across the hall from me in NYC sent it to me. He was actually the third owner of our old piano and the one who nearly broke his back bringing it down three flights of stairs to the landing in our old building. When he sent me the link, he reminded me that even our antiquarian neighbor, Gita, used to stop and play the keys before she made the long trek upstairs to the top floor. Piano's are a funny thing, unlike guitars, which can seem a dime a dozen, piano's seem to hold a history in it's keys. Or maybe in that firm, upright back of theirs.