I was camping with a friend at a place littered with flakes from Native American flint-napping. There were thousands of them. I picked up a few and brought them home to show my kids, who were entirely unimpressed. They are waiting for a return trip this spring, when I intend to scatter them among the rest of their mates. I've been haunted by the feeling it is wrong to have them, whether or not anyone else ever sees or touches them.
Peter Gomena
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