There is a kind of silence that only exists between harp notes, not empty, but held, the way breath is held before saying something true. Clair de Lune here is not performed so much as remembered, as though the melody always existed and the harpist is simply agreeing with it. I play this when the night has gone on too long and I need the room to become something kinder. It asks nothing. It is just stillness, given a shape.