Four sand heads sat a beach. Each wearing a different expression, they sat in the crevices of their weather-worn ancestors. It’s unknown how long they had been there, watching the people and the tides come and go. It’s doubtful they are still there today. But, they were there when I was. Those days when I visited that beach, they watched me build hermit crab homes. They watched my father and brother climb over algae covered rocks, casting chicken and string over the sides. My mother, like the sand faces, watched us continue with our activities.

Those millions of grains of sand, formed into four, have seen everything you or I may ever see, despite the fact that they are bound to their location. They stay, perched on their stone altars, witnessing beauty, death, laughter, hate, history, culture, change.

If it’s possible to see by standing still, why do we move? Maybe it’s because we can, or maybe it’s because we’ve never tried staying where we are.