For many years I would watch my sister as she played the piano in the music room

She would always sit naked on her piano stool with her back to me

I would sit in my late father’s armchair quite often with my eyes closed and listen to her gentle music

During our many hours together I became quite familiar with her pale back and its contrast against the olive cushion of her piano stool

This simple and innocent image never left me

The door to the music room was never locked but nobody entered as this was Ivich’s time

We were left alone and when my sister finished she was stand up and walk from the room patting me on my head as she left

Then one day these musical hours stopped without warning

There was no explanation from her and life continued as normal in our household

That was ten years ago before the war started and now against my better judgement I am hiding in a ruined house with a few others

The enemy is quite close probably just a few miles away

It is likely to be a last stand unless we are evacuated

Until recently I had not interest in the war and let events just pass me by

I had been left alone as this is the way I liked it with only my music for company

But things change they always do and I joined what can be loosely termed as a resistance

I had tired of the war and wanted it to end as many of my friends were either being hurt or killed

So here I am waiting to be either rescued or of I am lucky captured and imprisoned

I may even be killed but I do not feel that I am about to die

There is too much music in me and in its way it acts as shield

Soon after my sister married and left our house I stole a mannequin from a shop in the town and hid it in our attic

When the house was empty I would undress my model and place her on the olive cushioned piano stool that my sister once used

I would place a record on the gramophone and sit in my late father’s chair and listen to the music with my eyes closed

But this did not satisfy me as the contrast between the mannequin’s artificial back and the olive cushion was wrong

It was not natural

So I suspended this theatre and returned the mannequin to its rightful home under the cover of darkness

My sister and her husband saw the roots of war long before they surfaced and left the country with my mother

I was invited to accompany them but chose to stay saying that my country needed me

Which I did not believe as I did not care for my country and knew it cared even less for me

But I think I cared

As I look out of this window into the velvet darkness of the night I have promised myself that of I survive this scrape that I will return to my family

But only time will tell whether I will be able to keep that promise to myself