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In the dim flickering light of my torch, my breath becomes a delicate mist vanishing before the cave wall. I press my hand against the cool wall of stone, a blank canvas for me and my kin. Water drips from the rocks above, matching the rhythm of my heart, echoing, echoing through the serene cavernous space. As I blow a mixture of ochre and charcoal through a hollow bone, the outline of my hand against the wall emerges from behind my breath. This act feels like none other, a profound embrace of the other, a connection to something beyond my personal experience. My kin all gather around the same stone wall, blowing through their hollow bone tube; the outlines of our hands dance in the flickering light as if a chorus of spirits were reaching out to us from beyond the veil. This act feels like none other, allowing me to speak across unknown ages. At this moment, I am both the artist and messenger, an individual and a community; we leave behind this part of ourselves in the heart of our Earth so that each and every one of our descendants may remember us.
