It’s amazing what Mortalfolk won’t see. They won’t see that deep digs make Earth burdens. They reckon they own things when it’s the other way ’round, clear as moonlight. They think they get sick terrible for no reason, like the Sky God done it, like they had no hand in it, like Earthblood is supposed to be good for the body, ‘stead a cool creek water. They build and they bruise and they burn and they dig, and the mountain tears up like a coal scrape hurts, or one-a the young uns comes at your skirts too hard, ’cause nobody taught him how to handle a whore. Some are just dumb as a rock, but mostly they’s just asleep, walkin’ through the world like one of them machines, same thing over and over, makin’ a mess and blowin’ off steam. But there’s nothing for it. Mortalfolk won’t learn.