Cyril sat in a forest on a large rock. Light dappled the ground and a small breeze was gently rocking the forest, and himself, to sleep. Birds chirped, animals foraged, and the sweet sound of the wind was lulling him to sleep. He breathed in with the wind and out with the peaceful lull in between. Cyril was just falling asleep when he felt a disturbance in the peace. The birds had stopped singing, a small flock of them tweeted alarmedly and flew to a different tree. Cyril opened his eyes and scanned the forest.
Under the spreading chestnut tree
I sold you and you sold me
There lie they and here lie we
Under the spreading chest nut tree - 1984, George Orwell