I have always been fascinated by pebbles, not really sure why. Perhaps because they hint at the beauty, the uniqueness, the infinite variety, the richness that resides in what, at first glance, may seem like coarse landscapes of poor sameness. The warmth of a pebble that carries questions weightier than those in tomes of philosophical dissertations. Intuitions of energy… or maybe the “simple” pleasure of throwing stones in mirrors of water.
Whatever the case, stones and pebbles collected by marixxx along the shores of the river Ticino are scattered like friends and guardians across our flat in Pavia. A small wicker bowl contains the mineral memory of summer day of smoked fish and sunflowers at Aldeburgh. The remembrance of pebbles past at Kettles Yard.
And today, the smoothly crafted reflections on pebble collecting in this article here.