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The great stones

The great stones

In the stories of men there is always the search for a passage to the North-West: a gold, mythical land, where building a different society, not necessarily better. During the Discoveries Epoch, on October 12, 1492, a stubborn Genoese, sailing to the Indies, incidentally discovered America and the Venus of the Caribbean a little darker than Botticelli's one. Hence the Caribbean Sea becomes the crossroads of a New World for penniless hidalgos (Cortés), former guardians of pigs (Pizzarro) and so on. A new land, made of shimmering snowy mountains, of winding and full of dark canyons, of immense forests and swamps rich in unknown game. On this continent, at the end of the fourth glaciation, Asia's populations migrated slowly across the Bering Strait, forming hordes and tribes that populated the great country. It is in this continent of land and "barbarians" that a new nation is born, the United States of America, with its legacy of geniuses (Thomas Jefferson), of explorers (such as Lewis and Clark, who left San Louis on May 14, 1804, or Jedediah Smith), of criminals, like any self-respecting society.

 

Before wasichu came from the great water, the country that today is called America was populated by the descendants of the two Twins of the Creator, Soul and Body, or else from the sons of Man. The tribes of the great red people were scattered across the continent, lived in nature and loved it very much. Life was marked by the Moon and the seasons and so the month of August was called the Moon When Cherries Become Black and January The Moon of Ice in the Tent. They grew free as flowers in the fields and believed in a religion in which the spirits gave some of them visions to guide their brothers. Indians understand today what happened to Man by looking around: roads under which the bones of their people are buried, forests, rivers and poisoned prairies, shacks of logs and sheets, old people without memories, children without future. «... The circle of the nation is broken and its fragments are scattered. The circle no longer has a center and the sacred tree is dead.»

 Angelo Schwarz

Mostra

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