i notice how things erode. things erode fast. i see the stone graffiti crack and fall. carved by many people who have gone and died. someone should make a book a voice says and it's not me. the messages left have been received and passed on long ago i reckon and though writ in stone stone also passes. stones were lifted carved shaped by endless waves, and all the words, cryptic, cracked, crumbling, at last become waters.