They were born and lived and died on the flat, grassy plains of long ago. They were not a people given to roam but spent their days looking always inward, to each other, building up and sheltering rather than moving on. There were no mountains in their world, no hills. They only knew flat, though even that meant little with nothing against which to contrast it.
It might be flat, but it isn't really level you know. It slopes, as everything does, though ever so gently. Were it level, the rivers would not know which way to go. Rivers are not so smart as birds.
One cannot help but wonder what these people would think if you took them, while they slept, and laid them down, ever so gently, in a mountain valley, surrounded by giant trees and walls of stone, living all day in shadows. How would they change? Would they be afraid? Would they be amazed?
Even our imagination is bounded and constrained by what we have known and what we have not known. There is more in the world than you can imagine. There are sounds you cannot distinguish until you have heard them a hundred times. Once you know these things, you are changed.
Hello, friends. I love change blindly. I find that change helps you realize which parts of you are truly, essentially you and which parts are just a reaction to your surrounding. To what degree does your context determine your character? Which traits are immutable? What do you think?