The trees shift their weight asking you to follow their sound, the voices in their leaves, the swishing of their escort along a hushed corridor. We are all one in this moment and the next, and the next, like sand blowing from the top of a dune. Endless shifting, swaying, shining particles of being, of existence, of moments, of oneness. Two become one, become none as you find the thread and unravel the box of being; trace the edge of experience and stumble upon the last moment; overtaking it on your journey home.