I had never thought about little things until now, until I had become displaced and detached. Little things like the scratch of grass against bare feet and the little crunch noise that undoubtedly breaks the blades of grass... But natures green carpet always bounces back immediately. Perhaps the noise of tree branches, being tangled, tortured and embraced by strong southerly winds in the middle of a steaming hot summer, should have held more importance to me back home. The art of appreciation and great-fullness is so easily lost amongst the concepts of time, greed and the incomprehensible human need to succeed.