I sink into a plush patch of grass and close my eyes, feel the wind, feel the warmth of the sun on my face, listen to the silence that we all know isn't really silence because the world is always moving. And someone is always listening. Somewhere off in the distance is a robin chirping to her chicks as they beg for food with their beaks open, tongues wet like snails. A lizard rustles through a pile of leaves, avoiding mother robin. A boy shifts his weight under the gaze of his teacher as he rests his forehead against his palm, looking down at the test paper. Somewhere, even when there only seems to be silence, someone is listening.