I'm often fascinated by old dying things--old farm equipment no longer being used, an old house that once was a place of love or conflict now dusty lacy curtains sway from the breeze coming in through a broken window pane. This rock on the beach really captured my attention. Not yet sand, but no longer its former self either. Laying there at the mercy of the elements. Then I considered the seagull flying free above it all yet echoed in the destiny of the stone.