100 Word Sentence IV

Stones on a riverbed, in virtue of the fact that water continually passes over them, become progressively worn and smooth, incrementally growing smaller and more sparkling, the natural processes of wear creating a wholly organic and pure art form worthy of the highest praise, and I, now a bit more honest with the world than in my youth, can appreciate the tiny miracle of each pebble without irony to mask the wonder, a fact so mundane that it would not be worth the trouble of articulating except that it has been so strangely difficult to talk about beauty for me.