We didn’t have any microphone. We sang, with the might of twenty lions, a savage melody as soft as flowing water, a deafening pitch thar ripped the wind. It was out of tune, our joyful voices lamented spells of hope, echoing furiously against the trees and all over the town. They heard us but we didn’t mind. Maybe everyone heard us. They wouldn’t understand. At that jade corner of the world, which was ours and where only us could be heard we sang with the might of twenty lions until our voices faded away.