Believe it or not, there was actually a time in my life when I wanted to be an archaeologist. Of course, all I knew about the profession came from watching National Geographic shows; shortly thereafter, a similarly naive longing to be an oceanographer or marine biologist was fueled by seeing Jacques Cousteau's adventures on television.
As for the archaeology fantasy: I had visions of finding people, animals and artifacts frozen in a particular moment when a storm or avalanche struck, smoke choked, a tide engulfed or an advancing glacier encased, them.
What if I were to find a bicycle abandoned or forgotten in a particular moment? Would I find it in the remains of an ancient house, dump or street? In an alley, perhaps?
As for the archaeology fantasy: I had visions of finding people, animals and artifacts frozen in a particular moment when a storm or avalanche struck, smoke choked, a tide engulfed or an advancing glacier encased, them.
What if I were to find a bicycle abandoned or forgotten in a particular moment? Would I find it in the remains of an ancient house, dump or street? In an alley, perhaps?
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