I was once holding a cup of 4500 years old. In my hands.
The archeologist showed it to me. He said "You want to hold this for a second?" then turned his back to me, and said in a straight voice:"Don't drop it. Its 4500 years old."
I froze. This was made millennia before J.C. walked this very streets of Jerusalem (where I was at that moment).
It made me think how insignificant my existence is, unless you can make things for eternity. This potter, who shaped the cup with his hands, long time dead, all people who ever drank from this cup, the last person to use it,... The hundreds, maybe thousands of years of waiting underground, until it ended up in my hands. I was holding thousands of significant moments of real people.
I put the cup back in its cradle of straw, carefully, not to destroy this treasure of past days.