Sometimes, you gotta believe something crazy. Because all the other things you could believe hurt too much.
The men in the nearby village fear us, thinking we are witches. Women who live without men-especially old women who grow herbs, heal the sick, and befriend wild animals-are always suspect.
If you don’t believe in ghosts, then I dare you to run around the old man’s grave. Three times. Counterclockwise.
Someone once told me that archaeologists are anthropologists who don’t like live people. They dig up dead ones because dead ones can’t talk back. That’s not quite true. But I think live people are too fast for most archaeologists. We’re a slow-moving lot.