Messages in Bottles

At first, they have only one function; they hold the wine, usually a red of varying vintage. They don't think much about this.

When they are empty and worthless to their makers, they are his. He arranges them on the beach in great green-glass piles. They become splashes of color, homes for crabs, tiny fragments to be polished by waves. A thousand myriads of uses, a multiplicity of purposes. It hurts, sometimes; creation is always painful. However, when they think about this - and they do think, then - they do not have regrets.

Better to be destroyed for love than forgotten.