There’s a distant kind of sound from crows on a hot summer afternoon where everyone is sleepy, and everything is still. It’s a quick type of fear that this sort of weather and life may soon go away, and you desperately want to hang on to it, engrave it into your memory, and go back to it all the time when you close your eyes. Green hills, and green trees. Bugs play, and birds tweet. Friends and family, tea times, and careless quiet walks on dusty roads. Blue summer skies, and easy cotton dresses. The sounds of people and nature; faraway, peaceful, and kind.