"How enduring, how we need durability.
The sky before sunrise is soaked with light.
Rosy color 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 plan stood intact
Before they rose in the air with the dust of sepulchral brick
And the people who live 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."
At Dawn - Czeslaw Milosz
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| Pencil on paper |
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Deep is the web of the city. ("when I came into this land, I did not understand...")
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