"So, here are the dead fathers. Their spirit is entombed in the stone. It lies upon the land with the same weight and the same ubiquity. For whoever makes a shelter of reeds and hides has joined his spirit to the common destiny of creatures and he will subside back into the primal mud with scarcely a cry. But he who builds in stone seeks to alter the structure of the universe and so it was with these masons however primitive their works may seem to us"
That is the wonderful Cormac McCarthy writing on the context of one culture colliding with a predecessor and eloquently summing up my intuition of the prehistoric imagination.