My fascination
with pretty or unusual rocks has been a constant in my life since I was a small
boy. Then, and now, I often return
home after an excursion with rocks in hand.
As a boy, I
imagined pretty rocks would taste better than, say, a chunk of gravel. And I put this to test time and time
again. After finding a pretty rock, I
would press my tongue against the surface to taste. I would immediately do the same with a
plain-looking stone from nearby for comparison.
No difference. Pretty or otherwise, all the rocks tasted of
dust.
Only now, as an
adult, do I find the lesson in that.
—Mitchell Hegman
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