I was walking one day. It was sunny. There was a stone. It was made of some type of rock. My shoe tried to lightly pet the stone. The stone was cold. As the sun fell, it was no longer day but night. I continuted to try to pet the stone. I sat near the stone. It was still cold. Nothing, noises that the stone made. Angry, was I, as the stone did nothing, said nothing, looked nothing. Walking was the next logical step. I went home. I went to bed. Silence was the stone. Time. It is a precious thing. Time is what it takes to make stone. Time and pressure. Time is the element most precious to us as it is lost every second of every day. Time never comes back. Time is lost, just reading my ramblings.
Dashboard
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