In happier places. Blowing over a green, lush field on a cool breeze. At just that distance from a fire where it feels "toasty" rather than "hot. In the dreams of every sleeping child. Just past the horizon, where everything is bright and warm and the chill of night is no longer felt. Written on a wadded up piece of paper at the bottom of a waste basket in a drab second-floor office within SE's main offices, long forgotten.