I often ponder if the stone ever yearns to revert to dust. Once a part of bedrock, it endured the transformative journey of glaciation, traversing thousands of kilometers to acquire its polished sheen. Originally a substantial presence in its natural habitat, it now finds itself in unfamiliar terrain, where it seemingly rests undisturbed—or does it? Perhaps the stone harbors a silent longing to reunite with its geological origins, quietly enduring a life of indifference, yearning for the day it can disperse into the wind. Yet, humans, imbuing it with cultural significance, have forever arrested its journey, keeping it fixed in place for their own entertainment.