They run around in circles, showing each other the world up there, each standing behind each, pointing to the sky, then walking away, showing their sons and daughters where to go, then leaving , continuing the process, Pointing to the sky, leaving, pointing to the sky, leaving.

One of them holds their fist in the air. Protesting or trying to state something is wrong, to make right. Revolution?

For a while they all participate together in something that looks like

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““He spread a map across her knees and told her to pick a place where he could leave her. She wouldn’t choose.
Paris then, he said.”