Sentences with phrase «small rock particles»

Not exact matches

The particles of rock and ice in these belts vary in size from the tiniest dust grain, smaller than a millimetre across, up to asteroid - like bodies many kilometres in diameter [2].

Through a process known as «squeeze expulsion,» particles big (you and your pack) and small (rocks, chunks of snow) knock into each other at the bottom of the avalanche, where the most impacts occur, and eventually get bumped up to the top.

There, the microscopically small grains of rock from the core are catapulted along with ice particles into space, where they were measured by the instruments on the Cassini space probe,» explained the Heidelberg planetary scientist.

Because, in general, larger particles can not pack together as tightly as smaller particles can, a rock made out of larger particles will usually be more porous than a rock made out of smaller particles.

The researchers compared the results of small - scale numerical simulations of colliding rock and dust particles to the composition of meteorites.

The disk, which we see edge on, contains rock and ice fragments ranging in size from objects larger than houses to grains as small as smoke particles.

Comets and comet clouds form early in the life span of a solar system, and are primarily composed of frozen gases, rocks and dust, coalescing out of clouds of smaller particles into the cosmic bodies with trademark tails we're familiar with.

As a final gesture, a small piece of the island was sent to the edge of space where some particles of rock from the island will remain forever in the upper - stratosphere.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

As rocks break down into small particles and soils, they soak up a lot of carbon as CO2.

Shale is a sedimentary rock composed of very small particles of clay, mud and sand.