Tony Grist (poliphilo) wrote,
Tony Grist


I'd been carrying a pebble around in my pocket for several weeks. I found it on our drive- and I've no idea how it got there. It was a chip of flint, irregular, its edges smoothed by water, with a couple of facets that exposed its glassy, black heart. I love flint. The other day I dropped it on the shingle beach at St Leonard's because that seemed like the right place for it. I like to think of it remaining there, for thousands and thousands of years, getting run over by the sea among all the other pebbles until it finally turns to sand.

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