Dust.

Imagine what it would be like to be dust, a tiny speck that is so insignificant to everyone. Ponder the fact of what you could be if you were dust. Free from law, and the binding rules of life. Perhaps a bit of dead skin shed from someone who once lived in a house? An embodiment of the past that when left undisturbed can say so much?

Actually, I believe it would be interesting to be dust. Everyone talks about dust in novels and stories. You can write in dust, solve murders with dust. Now that I think about it, it seems that dust is almost useful. Perhaps everything in the world is useful. From dead skin, to minutes in time, perhaps all that we see and feel, experience, love, hate, is useful somehow.

Think for one moment about a time in your life, where one different move, one second, one thought; could have changed your whole life.