Seeing, without existing
Their journey across time mirrored many serene, hazy afternoons I had spent pouring over time graphs and diagrams in my second-hand copy of The Day of the Dinosaurs (1986), admiring the gouache painted osteoderms of an Ankylosaurus, rolling the long scientific Latin names off my tongue. I saw in their approaches what I admitted in myself, that dinosaurs and the prehistoric were, and have always been a means of escapism.