It is happy, natural, yet knows it is unreliable, it is the colour red, a red that is 40 million years old…. but it will break down, and at some point it is likely to get crushed. It is made from small particles, it is stone made of sand, it would merge with oxygen in a fire… the particles would melt together and become more solid, but….still it has no boundary. Its centre is the same as its outside. It feels secure and unbothered. It likes to travel in a pocket, via continental drift… slowly, but it doesn’t experience time. It doesn’t die. It just likes to fill the ground, or to provide grit for a mill. As far as I know it was picked up on a shore about two weeks ago…before that it didn’t have a history, It’s only humans that give it history. And yet it still ignores everyone.
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