A few days ago, I held the rock in my hand. It's beautiful. Polished. Warm. Hefty -- figuratively, literally, and fiscally. Alas, it is an expensive stone (what is a 'stone' but a 'rock' with a steep price tag).
Still, whenever I stop focusing on the window long enough to have some actual brain activity, it is of this stone I'm thinking. Its magical properties induce reverie. The inner workings of my daydreams are like an MGM Technicolor musical starring Gene Kelly and Ginger Rogers (I know this was not a typical pairing, but it's my daydream and I want Gene and Ginger together, OK?).
Ah, stone, I'm working on it. I'll get you soon enough.