You talk to me knowing I’ll understand what you say. There are others who won’t listen to you because they know, even before you begin speaking, that they will not agree with you. This is the Great Divide. A people is split in half, there are those who once, maybe, decided to leave their place of birth, and strike out. Whether they were forced out by famine or flood, plague or predators, whether they left to seek for new land, the green valley by the water, the stone cottage on the mountain top, or for adventure, or for gold, they were not satisfied, or they were too frightened to stay. And then there are those who, despite all things, remain where they were born. For them, the unknown presents the greater risk. These folk are content to remain at the fireside, gaining their adventures from the storyteller, or the image maker. They learn to appreciate their immediate surroundings, accept its flaws. They know by staying put it is in their interests to look after each other. But those that have left, they have no time for the weak. To stay with one of their own who cannot or will not continue on, who is injured, or sick, is to threaten the entire enterprise. And thus the Great Divide. These two tribes, those that seek, and those that remain, will struggle to understand each other. I remained behind, as you probably did, for if not, I doubt you would understand these words.