This Bitter Language by Elka Cloke
I know your streets, sweet city,
I know the demons and angels that flock
and roost in your boughs like birds.
I know you, river, as if you flowed through my heart.
I am your warrior daughter.
There are letters made of your body
as a fountain is made of water.
There are languages
of which you are the blueprints
and as we speak them
the city rises.
– from the opening of Cassandra Clare’s City of Ashes