I was thinking about the stories of time gone by. Stories that have become myths. And these myths in turn, as the ages pass, have slipped away. New people, new lands, new stories, each in turn slipping into that deep and faraway place we sometimes connect into and call it a dream.
People were making flutes for thirty thousand years before the earliest recorded history begins. Weve been burying our dead for 130,000 years. So many stories we will never know.
Nice painting! reminds me of Italy