Sculpted by Ice

Ice Ice everywhere

 Over vast plains the north wind blows – frigid and frost-ridden; the few trees are bare, shaking and shivering; a hazy mountain range rises in the horizon; in the middle distance across the frozen river a herd of shaggy animals trudge their way, heads down against the wind and snuffling for hidden grass and shoots under the iced soil. A group of fur-clad people watch – spears at the ready, eyes squinting against the blinding snow and wind; stomachs growling in hunger. But they must wait.

Someone starts a story-song and people sigh, and settle around the fire.

‘Without an ability to compose fiction, (one is) unable to cooperate effectively in large numbers.’

-Yuval Harari

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Sculpted by Ice (1)

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