Still remaining inside the old railway station, I turn my attention to the other side of the room opposite from the ticket window seen in the last photo, and there sits an old player piano. This piano lingers here in a sad state of disrepair among piles of old business papers, and other assorted debris. My mind conjures up a thousand scenarios about how this grand old musical instrument might have arrived after a hundred years to this particular spot to wait out its final days discarded and forgotten. I think of the joy this piano must have brought to so many people so long ago. Was it always part of this station, playing tunes to waiting passengers until they boarded their trains to parts unknown? I guess we’ll never know, but the magic of these old places and the relics contained therein, from the long gone past is perhaps the only way they might live again. Even if it’s only in my romantic imagination.