Buck

“The only sounds he hears are the chirping of birds and the rustling of wind through the trees; the air is damp and mossy and scented of pine and a hint of smoke from the hearth. The floor planks of the small cabin creek beneath his feet. It is a beautiful day. He has no clock to watch, no emails to answer, no newsfeed to fret over, no fashion to be a slave too. It’s just him and nature.”