Kali Malone Burning Song
Bach served this church for the last twenty-seven years of his life, and the walls seem to remember. The harmony moves the way light crosses a nave in winter: slowly, then all at once. Shadow gathers, a window opens, shadow returns. When the organ climbs into its highest pipes, the air itself seems to catch fire. Nothing here is rushed. Everything arrives.
Why it's hereRepetitionSpace
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