Moon over the harbor, exposing the darkness. 

Lifeless, dead, quiet. The only thing alive is the moon.

Moonlit waves slowly cover the shore, then quietly retreat back into darkness.

A small white shack stands, loud with memories but the only noise is the slight wind whistle through its windows. Papers and broken glass lay on its floor, Keys hang on stubs, chair tipped over. A single boat floating among the waves, showing a past of possible life.

Wind slipping its way between each blade of grass, each branch on the trees. 

The movement is small but the noise is loud. The whistle of nature, the only life.

However, it's clear that at one point, something was here. Something that made this place alive.