Some of us were at a loss for words.
If not for the few people who insisted on asking, what was it like? We might have lost our very existence in that you'll have to visualize it "space" of crossing while forging "the arch" from/to.
One closer-to-elderly brother stood near a just-getting-to-middle-age sister. They'd had very different lives. So the "beads on a string" that they did share, well, those were kept like beautiful things in a special box, and could be examined for relevant meaning. The sister was having a moment. After some time she said something like,
It feels like maybe that time we'd explained to those natives about how precious and precious, just precious those children were and how the roses were symbolizing that precious.
"And they hacked them with the machetè."
"Yes."
The cyborgs in frozen and slow walk mode were being loaded into a "paddy wagon".
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