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.