As the sun rises, it spills sunlight like liquid gold over the land. Wild flowers tremble in the gentle breeze. The dewdrops on them are weights, beaded and shiny, heavy and cold. The morning is still and undisturbed, vulnerable and virgin. The world is asleep, as if covered in a misty blanket. A single bird twitters in the distance, the silence its microphone, amplifying each note, letting it roll over the earth like beautiful yet invisible waves. The world is slowly raised from its slumber, being by being, soul by soul. A symphony of various awakenings overtakes the silence: yawns and stretches, cars starting and light switches being flicked. It steadily grows louder and louder, and at some point, all at once, the symphony loses its music and the magic is lost.