As you look at their gray stone huts against the scarred hill-sides you leave your own age behind you, and if you were to see a skin-clad, hairy man crawl out from the low door fitting a flint-tipped arrow on to the string of his bow, you would feel that his presence there was more natural than your own.
Kamienne siedziby naszych przodków zasiewają gęsto oparzelisko, i dziwić się należy, dlaczego oni osiedlali się w tych bagnach?