We have often tried to picture in our mind what the fossiled remains of creatures must be like, and all the while we sat on them, we have been so blinded by thinking and feeling that we have never seen the world.
The flat plain has been to us a reach of monotonous red.

We look at it, and every handful of sand starts into life.

That wonderful people, the ants, we learn to know; see them make war and peace, play and work, and build their huge palaces.

And that smaller people we make acquaintance with, who live in the flowers.

The bitto flower has been for us a mere blur of yellow; we find its heart composed of a hundred perfect flowers, the homes of the tiny black people with red stripes, who move in and out in that little yellow city.