Somehow, this place brings about a complacency that isn’t familiar to my brain, a delicate calmness, beaming ever-so-softly that the slightest abstraction from this consistently inconsistent dwelling will shift my mind to a place undesired. I need this silence. And by silence, I mean the swishing of a small waterfall a few feet away, the peck of a duck as its feathers are cleaned, the splash of these creatures under the sunset, the quiet buzz of the street nearby, the flutter of a bird in the distance, and the hum of an overhead airplane. A breeze lightly runs its fingers through my hair, and the rustling of the leaves in the trees whispers, “You are at peace here.”