Italian monks usher twilight in with evening prayers, their chants christening a new night, born of thousands now passed. Strung together in imperfect constellations, the vestiges of ancient gods watch the evening unfurl. Il Vespro — the vespers — give thanks for the day that is gone, sending benedictions into the darkened heavens. Vestments of woven silk reveal the changing nature of light, every movement illuminating the underlying intricacies of a pattern repeated in syzygy.