Gutta Cavat Lapidem

That night, I went through my usual walk through the gas-lit tunnel that ferried me across the river between two lives. There was water dripping from the ceiling onto the mortared stone floor and it reminded me of a stone engraving from the barrows of our ancestors. "Dripping water hollows the stone". And as I walked alone in that desolate place, transfixed to the plip of the seeping groundwater, I pondered which of my lives was becoming the stone and which the water.