To me nothing represents the passage of time better than weathered wood. This old ratan chair sits discarded on the side of a sidewalk cafe, a relic from a by-gone era. Oh the stories it could tell if it could talk!
Once a tall majectic tree, all that remains now are the weathered roots, washed down and smoothed by the stream, a mere skeleton amongst a new forest.
The mounatainman and his companion, a squirrel, wait patiently in the park for friends who have long passed on. Seasons come and go, and still they wait.