Ah, the garden’s hush is a paradox: it’s the silence of a quiet corner and the roar of all the unseen insects. That line, in my view, carries the weight of absence—an absence that is as loud as a storm. To capture such a moment, you must let the words breathe, yet keep them tight, as if you’re pressing the scent of lilies into the reader’s mind without letting it blur. It’s a fleeting instant, but if you treat it with the same care I give to a fine pen stroke, it will linger.