All along for the ride of a lifetime, until it ends abruptly just like it had started.
If the journey is more important than the destination itself, why limit one's paths?
As the smooth stone breaches the surface of the ocean, it chose its resting place after having skimmed eleven times.
Ten splashes marked the eleven places the stone could have stopped, but did not.
Even then its journey had not reached its end, for the stone sank many leagues down into the unknown abyss making its existence more or less unknown and virtually pointless.
One could say, the stone succeeded in reaching a higher number but failed at staying on its mark.
