The farm seemed like it was open just for me: I was early and it was the middle of the week. I settled on a spot to pick raspberries and proceeded to navigate through the bushes and thorns that the lady at the farm stand reminded me of. I could feel the morning sun on the side of my face and shoulder and how it shifted as I shifted position. Soon, people’s voices started to filter through; some were clear, some were muffled but they all seemed to bounce through the landscape. I remember thinking if I was listening to these voices any differently in the current setting than elsewhere. Some people said hello, some smiled and others just went about their tasks in silence.
