[Accidental Video]
[Accidental Video]
[The journal switches on to show...nothing. Well. Some carpet and what might be a music stand by a window, and a whole pile of sheet music off to one side. Nobody is visible, but someone can be heard tuning a guitar. It hasn't been played in a while. Poor thing.
When the guitarist switches to playing, it's clumsily picked out by rusty fingers, but the music itself is probably highly recognisable by a handful of people. The piece gets more fluid the longer she plays, until a couple of minutes into the song, when her fretwork first slows, and then trails off completely.
When she starts again, it's this piece instead, played through to the end.]
...twice more. [The voice is young and distant and distinctly Irish, and she giggles.] D'you think he'd come?
[And she starts playing again. Faster.]