The best thing, though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. Nobody’d move. You could go there a hundred thousand times, and that Eskimo would still be just finished catching those two fish, the birds would stll be on their way south, the deers would be drinking out of that water hole, with their pretty antlers and their pretty, skinny legs, and that squaw with the naked bosom would still be weaving that same blanket. Nobody’d be different. The only thing that would be different would be YOU. Not that you’d be so much older or anything. It wouldn’t be that exactly. You’d just be different that’s all… I mean you’d be different in some way- I can’t explain what I mean. And even if I could, I’m not sure I’d feel like it