Lying in the darkness, staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes, he traveled through a world created by sound. A calm melody, like a shamaness of ancient jungles lulling her child to sleep. She guided that marvelous instrument woven from wood and strings with her voice. A smooth flow, a gentle transition. Her voice shifted—she nurtured, she defended, and she attacked. It was incredible how this act of connecting soul and physical object revealed the multifaceted depths of her personality.

Her voice slowly faded away, leaving behind soft waves of this act, still drifting through the slumbering forests of the jungle. She set down the ukulele, stepped outside, and sat under the cool waves of the summer wind, gazing at the stars for a long time.