“I don’t pray, but sometimes I do touch the beads.
It has become a secret. I never look at them, just let my fingers roam to them when no one is in the house. It’s a rare time when I do this. I touch them, and every time I do I think of small stones. At the bottom of the lake, rolled aimless by the waves, I think of them polished. To many people it would be a kindness. But I see no kindness in how the waves are grinding them smaller and smaller until tey finally disappear.”
–Love Medicine, 1993 edition.
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