In a far and lonely place a woman sits at her camp fire.
Every morning she rises and takes her cooking pot and she walks to the river and she fills the pot with water. She returns to her fire and feeds it a handful of sticks.
Then she roams the earth in search of food.
She gathers seeds and berries and grubs and roots. Enough to fill her two cupped hands.
At dusk she returns to the fire and finds that wild dogs have drunk all the water from her cooking pot.
The woman empties the food she has gathered into a pile on the ground and she takes her cooking pot and she walks to the river and refills it.
When she returns to the fire the crows fly up around her. They have pecked up all the berries and seeds and grubs she gathered.
And the woman throws a branch on the fire and sits to await morning.
And if the woman does not rise in the morning and go to the river, if she does not fill her cooking pot, if the wild dogs do not come and drink her water, if the crows do not peck up all the food she gathers, if the woman does not sit at her fire and await morning, then on that day the earth will end.