They too are as lost and fragmented as their makers. Uprooted caravans crossing the arid countryside, cascading barren slopes, gracefully balancing on their heads the remnants of their ecology packed in gray burlap sacks of charcoal, for black is the charcoal and white the countryside where lush tropical greens long unexist. Bare land with its fertile soil at the bottom of the ocean. People spill into the ocean and become fish, where tropical fish long unexist and only the sharks dwell.