I am sitting there on the bench, a tiny breeze on my face, arms… It would nearly be chilly if I was to let the breeze go into my skin. I have a book opened on my knees, but I can’t read. My eyes are closed captured by a timid sun, every muscle looking for inches of relaxation. I feel it just there, the rock of my life, in my legs, my heart, my breath, my mind. Whoever I meet will have to be something else… another rock? A tree? A song? Can two rocks, really rock in bed? I am so going through the ground, I am more than grounded, I am immovable, a part of nature itself, a part of universe, just there on that bench; a rock, solid and strong like a mountain, an ancient mountain, an Ogham stone, my previous lives deeply engraved on the side, moveable with the spirit of H2O, a sailing stone!
A Fish on a Hill 