The desecration of le panneau de l'homme blessé

“You don’t dare.”
“I do.”
“Then go.”
Rami negotiates the narrow passage, enters the cave. Lighting his torch, he calls to life galloping horses, herds of bison and deer, which glide across the inverted flickering plains of the smooth limestone ceiling. His heart pounds. Time slows, evaporates. Beholding the sacred symbols, he shivers, then presses on.
The passage narrows, the ground rises, air is heavy and damp.
Rami arrives at the well. At the bottom: the bison, the wounded man and the bird on its perch.
He dips his finger in the tarry paint, adds the phallus, grins and bolts.