The Piano House and the Dagger

In a Museum, or Palace, or a palace that is a museum.

A blurry figure gifts me with this weapon 'for protection'. it’s just the heel, the blade’s been broken off. The protection mentioned is of a magical sort. The dagger dates from 1792 but the crystal into which that number is carved is movable, and changes the numbers from 1792 to 1892 to 1756 to 1792. The maker and city of origin is also inscribed, but the letters keep scrolling as you hold it up to the light. Antonius become Anatoli, Tivoli turns to Turkmenistan. The rest of the object is beautiful mahogany, rosewood and ebony with an inlaid eagle fluffing its feathers. I keep it in my hand as I stroll through the living museum.

The next room contains a parlor with a piano slated to be from the 16th century (although, little brain, the modern piano hadn't been invented by that time. In any case...).
At first the piano appeared to be just a beautiful keyboard set up like a box grand. Heavy ornamentation all wrapping around the legs, inset keys, a lustre to the ancient wood body.

I walked around the back of it and entered the piano as one would enter a house. It was not of house size, but of the size made for a child or gnome. The house is still considered to be part of the instrument. The walls are covered in yellow brocaded silk, it has windows and a staircase.

I wish I could play the outside while still being inside.
At this moment, the piano is played by someone...
The piano's curator/security guard enters and instead of kicking me out, drops his duties and lays down on the miniature stairs.
We talk about listening to the piano as if listening to the dancing leaves of autumn. Look out the window, you can see them, he says.
I feel that i am inhabiting the thing i love most. Every sound and sensation is beautiful, rich, delicious, and somehow, wonderfully mine.