Max Richter
Shadow Journal
How enduring, how we need durability
The sky before sunrise is soaked with light
Rosy colour tints buildings, bridges, and the Seine
I was here when she with whom I walk wasn't born yet
And the cities on a distant plain stood intact
Before they rose in the air with the dust of sepulchral brick
And the people who lived there didn't know
Only this moment, at dawn, is real to me
The bygone lives are like my own past life, uncertain
I cast a spell on the city, asking it to last