The tops of the trees swayed and creaked, some popped, some shuddered, others refused to allow the breeze to move them at all. He supposed it depended on...what? Physical strength, strength of character? He smiled. Did trees even have a character? Looking around him at the twisted trunks, the haphazard branches, the trailing leaves, there was character there, it was unavoidable, undeniable. He mused, all life has its quirky textures, its unique moments unlike any others. I am me, they are them, we're all in it together and yet we are also all unique and separate. "Weird world" he mumbled, "but a great one". The breeze continued its regular sighs across and through the trees.