Anybody would find it hard to rest inside such a rickety tent at night. The wind howls without mercy, unconvinced by my pleas for peace and quiet. Still, I drag myself to the quarry every morn' to haul the rocks about. My exhaustion finally got the better of me when I was operating the pulley, lifting a marble block. I couldn't keep my concentration and slipped into a momentary slumber, letting the marble chunk drop to the ground. A loud thud ripped me from my sleep and drew my attention to the now partially pulverized rock. In my half-dreaming state, the shimmering powder at my feet mezmerized me, but I quickly withdrew from that feeling as I was coming to my senses. I was excused from the quarry to get some rest, but I've been spending my off hours grinding rocks to dust. I find it strangely calming to gaze at the different resulting shades of gray.