There is one such, but not to be found in maps. It is the aggregate of
all stones thrown in screaming spots and all those thrown with
overwrought blinding emotion. It may sit around four to five people
comfortably or may conveniently accommodate one wailing individual
draped across it. No maps, yet sort of like the Room of Requirement in
the tales told by J.K. Rowling.
The appearance is willed based on need. At times it may be just yourself
or there may be some folks with you. You never hear them though although
you see them and may touch; you never see their lips, and never hear
what they say. Only your eyes give a hint of the stones you yourself may
carry for touch is a nonexistent sense as well. There you are like ships
passing in the night, there yet not in the same time.
I came back from the stone of lamentation just a while back. I was there
alone which was maybe a good thing. My mind knew as I traced the soft
obsidian, my tears were there within, my hate, my longing and my fears.
Everything was in gray scale which was befitting I think, since it's
never black and white anyway. Not when you're an adult. it was all
there. Six billion worth of pain and suffering and that's is just the
now. I believe I wailed. Screamed and tore myself inside out. Does it
feel better now? No. I feel drained and empty though. Until my heart
starts beating again. Which started minutes ago.
-Matt-
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