Is it about acknowledgement? A boy is throwing stones into the water. Every plop is as fascinating as the one before, as if the boy is half-expecting the water to suddenly stay silent, and nothing to happen (or perhaps the water would respond in a different way?) The boy is slowly learning about his influence on the world, in a very physical, tangible way. He’s reaching into the world, and the world is reaching back. Or, if not exactly reaching back, it is tricked into responding to the boy’s actions. After all, the boy knows the water will not be silent, even if his playful game might also be about how many times this will remain true.

Could something different happen? Will he witness an exception to the cosmic rule, could gravity forget its role for a moment and send the stone flying in a different direction? Or could the boy make an even greater impact, even with a smaller stone?

The boy watches in silence as the predictability of nature plays out before him, his extended touch being acknowledged time and time again. Is this how it feels to be conducting an orchestra? As the boy is standing in his secret spot underneath a cloudy sky, he starts thinking that he might actually be as real as everyone else he knows. His friends and even his parents. He might even be as real as the ground he is standing on!

The boy throws stones and rolls around in the grass, and the woods cannot help reacting. Is this all it takes for a lonely lost boy deep in the woods to feel heard and understood for a moment? This boy is not a ghost.