Dust motes danced
Dust motes danced in the single ray illuminating the supplier's ledger, its surface a palimpsest of chalk lines. Oscillating between clarity and ghostliness, each layer represented kaolin extraction rights—a history not of deals made but of claims repeatedly drawn, then subtly altered. The monitor beside it displayed fluctuating values, echoing how legal disputes and economic pressures had reshaped the slate over decades; even the most solid-seeming line proved provisional. A quiet stillness descended as the restorer traced a particularly faint erasure, realizing that ownership wasn’t found *in* the stone but woven through its endless revisions.