art is pebbles on the beach imagine there is a sparkling shore and you have an open day to spend there. just you and the water washing up at intervals beside you. blue sky above, blue water at your feet and beyond the horizon. it fills your senses and makes you understand what infinity means. it’s a pulse. here you are, and you have to do something, although all you want to do is stare out at infinity and listen to it roar. but you have to do something, and naturally your eyes begin to search the ground for treasures. eventually you’re crouching at the edge of the pulse that echoes forever, picking up any small specimen that catches your attention. you lift it to your face, turn it over. finger its crevaces. maybe you smell it, taste it. until it feels like part of you, like the attention you gave it leaves a certain energy with it. you judge that it is good and place it in your pouch. at the end of this day, you spread all the pieces out and organize your collection. you wonder if the best one might sell at the gift shop.