|watercolor, pen sketch|
I don't know exactly when I started, but I like collecting rocks. One memory that blazes in my mind is the time I was in London with my boyfriend. We both went over with our university for an entire Spring semester and were in the class that required us to attend a list of Shakespeare plays. We were in a tiny theatre sitting on bleachers at the top. I don't even remember the play but the audience was quiet and we were all focused on the actors. I got hot and took off my coat and laid it down beside me. A few seconds passed when I heard a tink, tink, tink which continued to get louder and seemingly unending as the pocket full of rocks in my coat's pocket emptied itself. By the time I realised what was making the noise, it was really too late to make any difference.
That experience hasn't stopped me from collecting rocks. They come in so many shapes and colors. Once I was even lucky to find a fossil! I've moved quite a few times, so most of these rocks get liberated, and then I begin again.
The rock above was found during a time of transition in my life. I was walking along a rocky beach and happened to spot it standing out, red against all the greyish rocks. I like to imagine that it travelled from some far away place, shaped by it's experiences and hardships, finally landing on this island.
Maybe that is why I like rocks. Experience makes them more beautiful and defined.
Are you wondering what happened to that boyfriend? We got married the following year. And to this day, he doesn't bat an eye when he sees me putting a rock in my pocket.