A smooth, white stone came to me, carried in a soft, warm wave of the Pacific Ocean, it rolled against my foot on the beach. It fits in my palm, and has a perfect circle carved out in its core. Like a large bead. I could hang it around my neck on a ribbon.
To remind me. That the water and sand can rub through stone. That, given time, an orifice, precisely spherical, could appear. That sometimes I am stone. And sometimes I am water.