“night time sharpens heightens each sensation ...
darkness stirs and agination ...
silently the senses abandon their defenses ...
slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendour...
grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender...
turn your face a the garish light of day...
turn your face a cold, unfeeling light...
and listen to the music of the night... ...”
夜晚响遏行云悠然空灵的女高音配合小提琴慢板缜密委婉的撕弦揭开它漆黑的帷幕。phantom化身贡多拉的船工，穿过19世纪巴黎纸醉金迷的街市，水晶灯一样璀璨的满天繁星。引领着christine，抬起她的手，小心翼翼地将她引入他的地下宫殿。
开篇慢而又慢轻而又轻，犹如琴瑟心照不宣的互诉衷肠，累累进递，从一点静谧，从一片星屑开始，将夜的漆黑不露痕迹地撕开。直到一次又一次，“listen to the music of th
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