I looked over my little pyramid and sighed. I had traveled so far from my home in the Americas to build something spectacular, something which would pay tribute to the gods of my homeland. But when I got to this hot and dusty land, my plans quickly shrank in the face of the barren sands. I trudged along, not watching where I was going, trying not to even consider that I had made the journey for nothing, when all of a sudden I found myself sprawled face down in the sand, a sharp pain in my big toe.

Picking myself up and spitting to rid my mouth of sand, I saw that I had stumbled over a pile of rocks. And to my surprise, there was a small pyramid, almost completed! I wondered what god or king it was built to honor, but for lack of any other ideas, I decided to simply finish it off and dedicate it to the spirits of my own land.

It was tough work, even though the base had been laid and the rocks were piled close by. Every time I sat to rest with my back leaned against the trunk of the poor excuse for a tree, I wondered how even such a spindly specimen as this could survive in this unforgiving climate.

But now the air was cooling and the work was done. I quickly whispered a prayer of thanksgiving to my guardian spirits and walked briskly back to the river and the barge that would take me back down the river on the first leg of my long journey home to the Americas, where I belonged.

image by Akatena, who is in Bryce kindergarten
and hasn't figured out yet how to make an 'Americas style' pyramid