Setting foot into the Dimmitt piano room for the first time is like entering an isolated little bubble far away from the otherwise busy buzz of the residence hall. There is nobody in here and the room is dark. As I turn the light on, the door closes behind me which intensifies the deafening silence of the room and makes me think that its walls are soundproof.

Because it is such a small space and doesn’t have any windows, the air in the room smells old and stagnant. I can also slightly make out the smell of the paper of note sheets.

Visually, there is not much to the room. The walls are of a dirty white tone, and the room is not particularly big. It only offers enough space for the piano and a chair. The chair shows some signs of wear and tear and the floor features scratches from where the chair has been pulled back and forth.

The piano itself looks like it is past its prime years which makes me think that it has been used by many students. The keys that once used to shine in a brilliant white tone are now slightly yellow and feature shallow scratches from fingernails. Pressing down on a key solidifies my first impression of how long the piano has been in this room. I’ve only briefly been musically trained but even to me, the piano sounds slightly out of tune. The sound of the piano nevertheless fills the tiny space, and it is easy to imagine how many memories of musical joy must have been created in this room.