It means that you have opened tens or hundreds of plastic bags with pottery, examined thousands of ceramic sherds, moved boxes, run to various mountains and islands, worked inside narrow storerooms, get dust all over your clothes. It means that you have spent uncountable days and working hours to examine every single sherd, although you still doubted whether it was worth the job. It is a huge economic investment. It is… Disappointment every time you realize you have lost time to take the wrong way. Uncertainty in front of a poorly supported conclusion, or stress before a presentation not well prepared. And so more…
To all of you who may be asking why a prehistoric archaeologist would instead continue, I am saying: because of this unexplained attraction that research and deep thinking challenge to our mind for our close relative, the prehistoric man. How does he live, what does he eat, what does he know, what does he think, what is he afraid of? Because our imagination is reborn when a new book, a conference, a stimulating discussion, a brainstorming idea throws sudden light on an old boring conclusion. Because with this ‘job’ you keep learning new things mostly by asking questions out of multiple thoughts which –how curiously!- create even more questions, but no answers. Maybe because research involves writing not actually a scientific explanation or a mere description, but a fascinating narrative in which every archaeologist puts a little bit of his or herself.
Read here some of such unfinished narratives I have written…