I have nothing to write about. My life is as boring as a stone's.
But even a stone has a story.
The way it's been weathered by the river
or the rain. The countless microorganisms
that once lived under its protection.
It has a love story with every surface it's touched.
Every stranger that's picked it up had given the stone a new journey.
Maybe they made it pretty or gave it a new name.
Friends, nature, the uncontrollable, hard times, and new experiences
shape the stone. Just as they do to me.
So at the end of the day, maybe I do have something to write about.