Titan...

This is me at the bottom of the pile, all the others finely balanced upon me waiting to tumble all around and into the water at a tremble.

Twelve in total, thirteen would be unlucky and I am a superstitious fellow.

It’s just the way of things I guess. Of my own making. A lifetime spent feeling responsible even when I’m not, some would call it a sense of duty. I call it the weight of the world.

Avoiding 13, never walking under ladders, tipping my imaginary hat to single magpies – and all to no avail. It hardly lifts a single stone from the weight of the world. But then the world is a heavy old thing, estimated to weigh 5,972 sextillion tons, that's 5,972 followed by 18 zeroes.

So the weight of the world and luck - is that what my balancing obsession is all about? Me trying to make sense of things by stacking them one on top of the other, trying to create order, attempting to make this chaos balance by carefully placing stone on stone to make a sense of life and reduce the weight of the world.

Or just another of my madnesses?

Well I’m no Titan, no Atlas broad shoulders to carry all those zeroes, but I’ll keep balancing my stones, looking for the order in things.

Who knows? If I’m lucky one day I might find it.