As with all of it's kind, humanity has intimately touched our inanimate friend. While still a part of the cliff upstream, it was caressed by the breath of the masses. The exhalations of Hammurabi, Kubla Khan, Nefertiti and Jesus. The winds from the four corners of the earth, the rains of eons. In the stream, at first jagged and slowly becoming smooth, it has known the tears, blood and urine and sweat of the great and forgotten. Poe. Shakespeare. Crockett. Black Elk. Valentino. Lennon. Woodstock. You. Me. The fluids of life find their way to the dirt, the storm drain, the sewers, the sea, vaporising, finding the clouds, then as rain upon the mountains, to pass over the brook stone to once more enter our food and drink, our cells and veins again and again, and again, and again.