What Will Remain Of Us

What remains when the forests fall, when the waters rise, when the silence is broken by machines?

This is a meditation on loss — not of what we have, but of what we are becoming. A slow, suspended dialogue between piano and violin, where every note carries the weight of a world we are still in time to save.

The violin weaves a lament, fragile and human. The piano holds the ground beneath it, like a memory of the earth before the wound. A slow, gentle, human musical touch to reflect, to grieve, to hope.

This track is for those who want to sit with difficult questions without needing answers. For meditation, deep listening, and quiet activism of the heart.

As an Abenaki saying reminds us: "When the last tree is cut, and the last river is polluted, you will realize, too late, that wealth is not in bank accounts and that you can't eat money."