"But finally you find that you have people of flesh and blood on your hands, people with will and an individual sensibility of their own, made out of component parts you are unable to change, manipulate or distort." (Harold Pinter)
Was it luck? Was it the hand of destiny?
The rocks had fallen, in a shower of dust, mud, broken trees and the sound of an angry Earth.
The big menhir had stood still, protecting him.
As he slowly rose, he saw the god behind the stone: Gratitude – one day he would have to be that stone for someone…
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