Imagine this: you wake up in a field to the sound of a rooster’s crow. As you open your eyes and start to regain clarity, you notice that you’re gathered around a fire with a band of rustic-looking men wearing mud-caked boots and floppy hats. You ask one of them, who’s gnawing on a strand of wheat, where you are. The gentle prospector explains that you’ve been on the run from an existential danger, but you have finally reached safety. He hands you a warm tin cup steaming with fresh-pressed coffee. Just then, another man, who had been scribbling furiously in a leather-bound notebook, retrieves a weathered acoustic guitar from his makeshift tent. Just as his somehow familiar voice breaks through the natural hum of this borderless frontier, you are struck speechless by the beautiful amber rays of a new day’s morning sun.