Wastepost

In the desert there existed a grain of sand. It was just an ordinary grain of sand, although it may have been slightly priviledged because it had the luck to be situated on the top layer of the ground; enjoying the assorted benefits of being able to roll around the endless expanse of the desert both in the gentle evening breeze and in the wild desert sandstorm; something hugely enjoyable.

It considered itself a grain of sand of the world. An intellectual grain of sand, but its peers often thought it was slightly presumtuous in this regard. A grain of sand was a grain of sand. And in the desert all you saw was other grains of sand or the stars anyway. The latter depended on whether you were on the top layer or not. But eventually, arguably, every grain of said got a chance to stay on top.

Its elders thought it naive, and quietly listened to its boasting without saying much. They considered themselves wiser, of course. And the young grain of sand resented this. But it pretended it didn't care, bacause that's how it rolled.

It saw in its elders a reflection of itself as seen by its peers. And it saw in its peers a reflection of itself as seen by its elders. It chilled out a bit on top of a freshly formed dune. Thinking about this.