The day is unseasonably warm for early November and the blue sky above is clear. I walk hand-in-hand with Emeric, on our way to find adventure. We a looking for a piano for Emeric and Kira, one of our other piano playing friends. Kira had heard about a free church piano sitting somewhere in town and we were out in force. The idea is to drag it back to the hostel. When we find it, the front panel is on the top, the string and mallard innards exposed to the world. Emeric drops my hand and runs his fingers along the keys, pressing, shaking his head. “Its all out of tune and the keys are stiff. Its too far gone for us to use.” His voice holds a bit of sadness, mourning the loss of a beautiful instrument. I feel the grandeur of the piano that still hangs in the air. This use to be an i instrument whose keys sang out its story every Sunday to a congregation of people. The beauty of the broken piano is one that is rarely seen, held together but sagging, still trying to share its story with the world.