I cannot capture sunlight in words. The blinding kind of sunlight that streams through my blinds, past those lace curtains, weaving warm, awakening designs on my hands and cheek every summer morning.

I cannot make you feel that beauty - the beauty in that silence that I would define as the absence of human voice. That is not true silence, but the most intriguing I could find. It is the most active and subtle and beautiful and full silence. That silence is full of birds and lawnmowers and wind and bugs, footsteps, porch swings, wind chimes, and bed creaks. And it is music. And that blinding sun that streams through curtain, cheek, and soul is just some strange spotlight on this world's audience - me.