I have nothing to write about.
My life is as boring as a stone's.

But even a stone
has a story.

The way it's been
weathered by the river

or the rain.
The countless microorganisms

that once lived under
its protection.

It has a love story
with every surface it's touched.

Every stranger that's picked it up
had given the stone a new journey.

Maybe they made it pretty
or gave it a new name.

Friends, nature, the uncontrollable,
hard times, and new experiences

shape the stone.
Just as they do to me.

So at the end of the day,
maybe I do have something to write about.