I have at times a sense of the impermanence of things. That the most solid of stone, which is oft mentioned as having things carved in it — that it, too, will pass, will crumble into dust. Just like us, dust to dust. When I lived in San Francisco, there was a time when I experienced a short earthquake: sitting at a desk at work, suddenly the whole building shook. And it was at this time I was the most aware about how flimsy the entire structure was, the building which seemed so solid when the ground was stable. How great the powers of nature. And I think, too, time is the most awesome of these powers. Which seems to do nothing, and everything, too. Driving the trickles that forge the mightiest canyons, inexorable.
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