It was the summer of 1995, and in the dim glow, I gazed at the ghostly parade just as my ancestors did roughly 21,000 years ago. In front of that was a very large bison head that was completely out of scale with respect to the other images. The bison followed several horses painted solid black like silhouettes above them was an earthy-red horse with a black head and mane. The closest image resembled a bison, with elongated horns and U-shaped markings on its side. Where the limestone wall arched into the ceiling was a line of paintings and drawings of animals running deeper into the cave. Once my eyes adjusted to the faint light at the foot of the stairs, I saw that I was standing in the open chamber of a cave. Stone steps descended into the ground, and I walked down them slowly as if I were entering a dark movie theater, careful not to stumble and disrupt the silence.
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