The Pilgrim Age

We enter the sound space of a spanish cathedral, filled with voices of countless visitors. Some single steps emerge from the noise, slowly, dragging, arduous, yet unerring and unwavering. A guardian, a priest, a monk, or even a ghost? ... The sound of a key ring, a secret door opens for the old man, he enters a chapel, the door closes again.
The silence in the chapel is born of the centuries. Out of this silence, the music emerges, the sounds of Pearls of dew, ot Roam the house all night, of Clair de lune ... 

We listen to the polyphonic chants of the Lyhrus Ensemble and to the contemplative tunes of instruments, that were built long before their player came into the world.

And in the end, the music returns to silence again – like the old man returns to the cathedral. He crosses it slowly, yet unerring and unwavering, back from his daily ritual, his daily source of life.