THE NORTH RIDING PROJECT

No forest is ever wholly silent.  There is always the sound of the wind in the trees, the sound of the branches as they move, the minute sounds of the scavenging lizards, the sounds the birds make when they stop singing.  But on the road to Osorezan these sounds had all died.  There was not the slightest hint of a breeze nor of any form of animate life, and the twigs and branches were stiff as stone.  I was alone on the road to Osorezan, but I felt a greater loneliness than comes from merely being alone.

Booth/Sata