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The Writing of my Place in History

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Talking to stones


Talking stones

Have you ever looked at stones and wondered if they communicate, if they have senses, if they have life in there? I mean, they can’t just be there, doing nothing and being nothing.

I do. A lot. Sometimes I look at stones differently. Stop giving me that look, I know what looking at a person, or thing differently mean. Let me digress a little… I was reading the story of a guy convicted of beastiality somewhere in Asia. Asked to explain why he had done the deed to so many animals, he said he had been a herdsman; and his only companions were the cattle and sheep. So he started forming different relationships with them. I guess if you are booty person and you see a sheep strutting it’s large, wooly behind long enough, you could start looking at it differently.

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Anyway, when I was an only child, I would spend a lot of time alone in the afternoons after school and Saturdays. And I would find myself making friends with sheep (remember the one whose tail I cut off?), plants and many times, stones. We would talk, I would tell them my dreams, my fantasies, about anyone I was mad at, my favourite things, and secrets. The stones were very good listeners, never interrupting me, they just listened and soaked up everything I told them. Sometimes they gave me reassuring smiles.

And whenever I learned a new caning style from the teachers, I would practice it on the stones I disliked most. I would panga them in a line and give them a proper caning. And then I would apologize. Made me feel bad, beating those innocent stones like that. I wondered how teachers put up with the guilt afterwards.

corporal-punishment

Like this, but stones. 😉

My stones (trash that imagination) kept me company when I was little and I still look at them differently. And massively respect them.

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Be like stones

I sometimes wish people were like stones. Watching and listening intently to secrets and not blabbing them out to other people, never shouting at others, and mostly, never judging. Forgiving even when you hit them unknowingly. (Because you are the one that felt pain, coming back to hit them harder and shout at them.  Human stupidity. Reward humility!)

Be like a stone. Ignore these rumblings of a mad man, writing a blog post on stones.


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