The stones on the shore are all at various stages of completion.
Some have not yet become fully rounded .
Some are still too big. Most of them are at the uninteresting stage.
Other candidates have holes started in them but the holes don't yet go through to the other side .
They will be ready in a couple more years.
However a few stones along my beach walk are close to perfect, both in shape and smoothness - tumbled by the ocean and then cleverly left lying on the beach, waiting to catch my attention and then pick them up.
One candidate will stay in my hand as I walk,
my fingers exploring it's perfect smooth contours and colour, as I look for others, equally perfect in uniqueness.
There is no rush. No agenda.
My eyes go into neutral looking for these singular stones to bring home .
My focus is on nothing, in order to see the stones that are really something .
I bring back a dozen or so in my pockets every time I visit the beach
If I came here an infinite number of times , the sea no doubt , would have completed her timeless task of tumbling every single one of her stones into works of art and I will have had no choice but to have eventually chosen the entire shore of perfectly formed stones to carry back home with me .
