So there I was, watching Herzog's "Cave of Lost Dreams" whilst translated lines from Ovid ("O genus humanum, quod mortem nimium timuit"-Oh human kind, that fears death excessively). Herzog's camera enters a chamber containing a portrait of a long-extinct cave bear: so old, a sparkling patina of calcium covers it ("Omnia mutantur, omnia fluunt, nihil ad veram mortem venit."-All things change, all flows away, nothing comes to true death.)
A stray thought comes to mind-suppose the hands that chiseled that bear still lingers, charged to new purpose. Suppose the writer of these verses is even now, translating himself into a new age ("Vita est flumen; tempora nostra fugiunt et nova sunt semper. Nostra corpora semper mutantur; id quod fuimus aut sumus, non cras erimus."-Life flows; our times fly off and are always new. Our bodies always change; that which we were, we will not be tomorrow.).
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