Staring into the gloom, I imagine the cave's ancient inhabitants, wrapped in          bear skins, huddled near a fire. The haunches of a reindeer roast in the fire.          A mother nurses her infant. Children playfully throw pieces of bone into          the flames. An old woman tends the wounds of a hunter with an herbal          ointment. The strong smells of smoke, unwashed bodies, and rotting          carcasses thicken the air.         Until recently, nobody would have assumed that the …showed first 75 words of 1075 total…

…showed last 75 words of 1075 total…one last time to the caves on the southern tip of Spain, and yet they never once tried to get over to Africa. Why not?          I see them again, chipping at flints and gazing down at herds of elk and aurochs that grazed          the rich grasslands below. Now, where their prey once wandered, the ships of many nations          anchor. Beyond them, Africa looms through the haze, filling me with wanderlust and                   questions. (Rick Grey, pp. 35)