Stillness. A moment stolen amidst the wind-driven dust. Thirty seconds of silence that shatters the busied rumble of afterburners and awakens the mind. Thirty seconds granted to take in snow blowing from Afghan peaks and feel every inch touched by the descending late winter breeze. The perfection of the sky and its light make real a moment that otherwise would be mistaken in reflection for dream: the glory of life over death, of vibrancy amidst decay. Each fold of the lungs awakened with full breath, only to be exhaled into the approaching rotors’ thump and stolen away back to busyness.