One summer day when all the kids had gone to play I sat on a fallen tree in the back of my yard and whistled a tune with the edge of my lips. There wasn’t much to do that hadn’t yet been done so I sat there enjoying the birds chattering at me like I was a real conversationalist. I felt the urge to get up so I began to gather my thoughts and tie my mental shoelaces but something in the air made me stop. I thought about nothingness and considered void, and of course I came up with nothing. “The sun is red,” I then thought to myself, noting the rectangles of sunlight that played tricks on my wrists.