You walk on a beach like this and you find many stones.

 And then you remember, you remember that you too once sat there and the hours passed so happy and time was not time.

 It is the magic of childhood, you can stay there for an entire afternoon without realizing that you are burning your back.

 And it happens, you are on a beach, looking for that timeless time.

 And you walk.

 And then you find them, many stones.

 Of different sizes, with different shades, some are small and gray, others brown.

 And you understand that someone passed on that beach before you, perhaps a child.

 Only stones.

 And fantasy and dream and imagination.

 Sometimes you walk on a beach like this and you find lots of stones.