I remember going down a river in China back in 1983 and turning to my sister and saying, “What’s missing here?” Something seemed odd or wrong.
It took a few minutes for me to figure it out. There were no birds flying, no sounds echoing from their songs and conversations. It was eerily silent. Unfortunately, the birds came later on a plate. Little song birds roasted whole and eaten whole, bones and all. My sister spent a lot of time in China being a vegetarian.
The kind of silence I found on that river in China is a large part