One Little Piece Of Grit
What am I but grit and dust? Broken down shell and stone, washed over the shores again and again. I am one small grain of sand among hundreds and tens of thousands. I am insigificant, I am harmless, I am not of great value nor great beauty. But still, there is a chance, that I might crawl, claw, beg my way inside an oyster shell and find myself there stuck in, expanding and transforming and one day be a pearl of lustre, depth and quality.

What do you think?