Tired, and hungry, you take a break, wedging yourself in a crook of the tree. You feel the tree against your body, alive. You look at all the delicious figs before you, and all the ones you’ve climbed past. Your stomach grumbles. You take a granola bar out of your bag and try to eat it, but it just isn’t the same. So, finishing your snack with little triumph, you sit, as quiet as can be, and listen to the laughter of the wind through the leaves.