​ ​ Wolfie was a man of contradictions. By day, he was a solitary lumberjack, surrounded by the whispering trees of a vast forest, each swing of his axe echoing his solitude. By night, he transformed into

Voiceover: When a child is born, they either smile, laugh as in giggling, or they cry. What did you do? How do you know? Was it recorded, or were you told? What happened if you made no sound for ages except