Imagine a world where measuring is done not by how much of something exists, but how much is taken away. Not by how much noise the sun-baked street breathes, but by how much silence each breath consumes. Not by how bright each day dawns, but by the degree the darkness fades. Not by how tall the tree has grown over the years, or how much fruit is harvested, but by how much sky has been replaced with shade, and the countless hours lost to each apple’s care. In such a place, I wonder if contemplating taste and fragrance would be a burden, or if instead the melodies of the orchestras cry all the more loudly in the innate quest for silence.