The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Umm, a vintage biplane is somehow stuck in the branches of a massive cypress tree, its propellers gently spinning despite being embedded in the wood. The air's thick with the smell of fresh water and cypress sap, and the sunlight's filtering through the canopy above, casting an ever-shifting pattern on the tree trunk. A bunch of fishing nets are scattered around the tree's base, and fish are jumping straight out of them, like they're being pulled up by an invisible string, landing softly on the wet grass. The air's totally still, except for the sound of gentle lapping water somewhere nearby.