The stone wall
The Stone Wall
The idea began with a sense of unease. The small island I live on is changing fast - construction everywhere, the earth constantly opened and moved. Piles of stone appeared on every roadside, discarded fragments of new foundations. I couldn’t ignore them. They were beautiful, full of texture and history. Yet everyone I spoke to said the same thing: “It’s too complicated. Just buy some.”
But I didn’t want to buy them. I wanted to reuse what was already there - to build something that carried the memory of the land. The project became a question: can persistence transform what others overlook into something enduring?
The plan was simple in concept, very difficult in practice: collect stones from the excavations happening around and use them to build a wall. The stones were abundant, but the logistics were not. I needed an excavator to lift them, a truck to carry them, and people willing to help. Weeks passed with no success. Calls unanswered, promises delayed, plans falling apart.
From a scientific point of view, persistence is often defined as sustained effort despite obstacles. In reality, it feels like friction - resistance measured in time and patience. Every system resists until consistent force is applied - then it begins to reorganize. This applies to everything in life. Each setback became data, another observation in a slow experiment on determination.
Every system resists until consistent force is applied - then it begins to reorganize. This applies to everything in life.
Eventually, small breakthroughs started to appear. One morning I saw a man operating an excavator at a nearby building site and decided to ask him directly. I approached politely, offered him a coffee, and explained what I was trying to do. He smiled and agreed to help, even though his boss was not happy that he left the site for a few minutes. With his help, the first stones were lifted and moved. The work was heavy, methodical, and strangely satisfying. I learned to read the stones - their density, shape, the way they fit or resisted alignment. Building the wall became a study of adaptation: shifting plans, rethinking order, staying flexible while never losing direction.
Weeks later, the wall stood. Not perfect, but complete. Each stone carried evidence of effort - proof that persistence is not force but steady dialogue with difficulty.
Now when I see it, I don’t just see a wall. I see a system, a record of transformation. The experiment succeeded. Thought became matter. Intention became structure. And what was once waste became endurance, written in stone.