One man stands in a wood by a frozen lake. As green as the pine trees are, the ice which clings to the branches as sap shine like orange diamonds in the distance. This is the only sign that the sun has yet to fully set over the horizon which lay over the base of the winter pines. As he looks out into the sky, the sound of every snowflake that rests on his jacket seems to get sucked out into the cold. The silence is deafening. Why does falling snow always seem to be the loudest form of silence?