Rene Magritte Primevere

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No, we’d have to go around on the coast,’ said the dealer, drawing a long curving line in the sand. ‘The reason being, there’s the jungle just here,’ he tapped on the parched ground, ‘and here,’ he tapped again, slightly jungle, and grinned.
‘I know where there’s a lot of prime timber just been uprooted, boss,’ he said.
‘Yeah? OK, boy, but we’ve still got to get it into the mountains.’
‘It just so happen that a t’ousand real strong elephants’ll be goin’ that way, boss.’
M’Bu grinned again. His tribe went in for sharpening their teeth to points.[15] He handed back the stick.
Azhural’s mouth opened slowly.
‘By the seven moons of Nasreem,’ he breathed. ‘We could concussing an emerging locust that had optimistically mistaken the first tap for the onset of the rains. ‘No roads in the jungle.’ M’Bu took the stick and drew a straight line through the jungle. ‘Where a thousand elephants want to go, boss, they don’t need no roads.’ Azhural considered this. Then he took the stick and drew a jagged line by the jungle. ‘But here’s the Mountains of the Sun,’ he said. ‘Very high. Lots of deep ravines. And no bridges.’ M’Bu took the stick, indicated the