This is a story I heard from my old mother, whose waist had completely bent and became small when I returned home to the parents' house this New Year.
Most of the old countryside was not paved roads but gravel roads.
A road where stones crushed to an appropriate size are laid on the ground.
When I was still young on the gravel road, probably a farm road, I toyed with the stones on the ground and kept quiet.
So I was a hassle free baby.
Perhaps at that time, I had no other suitable play equipment, so I was enjoying the various colors, shapes, and weights of the stones and their arrangement.
Even now that I am an adult, I feel like I'm playing with a combination of words, voices, and images without getting tired of myself.