Winslow Homer The Fog Warning

Winslow Homer The Fog WarningWinslow Homer Rowing HomeWinslow Homer Kissing the Moon
Brutha glared at the tortoise, and then stamped off toward the pile of rubble that dominated one end of the ruined temple. He rummaged around in it.
"What are you looking for?"
"We'll need to carry water," said Brutha.
"There won't the bowl was a larger figure, obviously important, some kind of god they were doing it for . . .
"What?" he said.
"I said, in a hundred years' time we'll all be dead."
Brutha stared at the figures round the bowl. No one knew who their god was, and they were gone. Lions slept in the holy places and-be anything," said Om. "People just left. The land ran out and so did the people. They took everything with them. Why bother to look?"Brutha ignored him. There was something under the rocks and sand."Why worry about Vorbis?" Om whined. "In a hundred years' time, he'll be dead anyway. We'll all be dead."Brutha tugged at the piece of curved pottery. It came away, and turned out to be about two-thirds of a wide bowl, broken right across. It had been almost as wide as Brutha's outstretched arms, but had been too broken for anyone to loot.It was useful for nothing. But it had once been useful for something. There were embossed figures round its rim. Brutha peered at them, for want of something to distract himself, while Om's voice droned on in his head.The figures looked more or less human. And they were engaged in religion. You could tell by the knives (it's not murder if you do it for a god). In the center of