Thursday 12 December 2013

The Never Ending Desert



He scooped another handful up from the floor to his left and poured it onto the table. With slow, steady strokes he brushed every grain of the fine white sand from his hands, and then gathered the grains into a pile. Then, using tweezers, he began to pick one grain up, mark the page with a count, and then drop it onto the floor to his right. To his left was sand as far as he could see, waiting to be counted. To his right, a small pile of sand, the grains he had already counted.

Truly, this was heaven.

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