Rocks of Ages
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When I was a kid on a camping trip, I inevitably came back from a walk with pockets full of rocks and treasures. My dad even made a bookcase in the garage to hold all of my "treasures". These rocks call to me; I love their smooth contours. Funny how rocks grow more smooth with age and friction whereas somehow I have done the opposite: my appearance goes from line-free to crinkled as time passes.
In the Escape to Rockport photo essay.
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