Rocks grow, rocks mature. A rock is dull, and at times unnoticeable. Some rigid, some smooth. Rocks have substance and serenity. A rock goes through a journey like no other. Taking breed from the depths of a chunk, and eventually finding itself a minuscule piece of earth. A rock gradually moves from its rough state to silky texture through none other than time. Every wave, every shipwreck, and every climate change make a rock what it is. Some crumble, some seize to higher power, and some persevere to a sunlit beach coolin out with Coronas. The waves are coming. The ships are crashing. The weather is changing. Here we go.