There was a man who carried a rough stone in his pocket.
Each day, as he walked, the stone rubbed against his clothes and his skin. At first, its edges were
sharp and uncomfortable, and he thought about throwing it away. But he kept it, noticing that with
time and movement, the stone began to change. The sharp corners softened. The surface grew smooth.
The stone was not polished in a single moment, nor by force, but by steady contact and daily wear.
What once felt rough became something refined and beautiful.
The man realized that the journey itself had shaped the stone.