As you center yourself in the courtyard, the scene in front of you pieces together. Tall buildings encompassed you in the courtyard, enclosing, yet focusing you on what lay in front— like a horse with blinders. Narrow path, led to barred black gates, leading out of the confines of the courtyard. The smooth, dirty, concrete covered the expanse of the ground, except for patches of grass. On one side lay series of lifeless tables, not a single soul on them; and the benches laying in front of the concrete buildings, lay bed for fallen leaves on which they slept until disturbed by the slightest touched.
	The smell of the crisp, cool, morning air, filled every person and thing in the yard; the grass laying in a thin layer of dew. Steps descended from ahead, as if the entire courtyard was an empty theater. Symmetric patches of grass lay scattered across concrete, each with a single, young tree sprouting from the center; the leaves, coated in dew, forming a sphere of green. The leaves danced as the wind gently blowed through the foliage; the humming birds, faster then you can watch ascended front the foliage, their wings just a blur as it scouted out its next destination; the bird was gone before you knew it, as it had darted off to the next tree. The soft, low, hum of distance machinery was only rivaled by the birds chirping as they hopped from tree too tree.