It's a dark and stormy night.
I'm in a strange house, there are no lights on and I can't find a light switch. I find a candle, but have no matches! Fumbling around I find a lighter, light the candle and move to the next room.
There is an old wind-up phonograph and a stack of 78 records beside it. Looking on the turntable I see a record already there. I can't read the name, so I turn the crank and set the needle on the record.
I don't recognize the song, but the voice is unmistakably Enrico Caruso. Surprisingly the sound is good, so I let it play on as I explore this room, a library.
Finding an oil lamp I light it and the surroundings get a bit less oppressive. The room is really quite large, the lamp light doesn't reach the ceiling. Bookcases line the walls, floor to ceiling. The books all look very old.
I take one down and as I open it, it crumbles in my hands. Sad to have all this literature at my hands and to be unable to touch it, I sit in the dusty armchair and cry.
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