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Sands of Time

Her feet sank slowly into the wet sand as she looked out at the sunset. The giant ball of destruction that somehow managed to be the cause of life on the planet she found herself standing on. The beach was abandoned, but she still heard some stray calls of seagulls. She closed her eyes and just felt the calm sea breeze and the water lapping at her ankles. It wasn’t often that she found herself at the ocean, despite the fact it covered two-thirds of the planet. But, like the sun, the ocean helped sustain the life around her, and the life inside her. Without either one, she would not be there, she would never have smiled like this because she would never have existed.

Her contemplations about life, the universe and everything else are what drove her to her art, even if others would never deign to call it such – it wasn’t art in the sense they were used to, therefore it wasn’t art at all. She moved the world with her hands alone, yet the days still passed as they always did. The sun still rose every day, or rather, the earth still spun as it had for a thousands of years. And it would continue to do so, whether she was there or not to gently guide its way. After all, she was but a speck of sand compared to the rest of the universe. Ever so small, but crucial nonetheless to so many things around her.

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