Life cycle

It is a place where lost stones go to die. Otherwise, what use is there for it? It, too, is stone; nothing will grow there. So, accumulate to survive.

Accommodate to accumulate. Stones keep a memory of those who have picked them up, hefted them, thrown or skipped them. Battered with them, wept over them. They hold in their implacable stoniness traces of all human excrescence. They take its shapes, retain, retrain them, become its prototypes.

Sun bakes, ice cracks. Stone gets carved in words. Anchor, gravestone, opal, obelisk, fossil, cairn, menhir. In this place waiting for the hand that fits them. Growing boulder.