The Stone Talus: An Architectural Reverie
"This enormous monster is naturally camouflaged as a rock formation. Neither sword nor arrow can pierce its stony form, but a cunning adventurer knows to scale its body and attack the ore sprouting from its peak." — Hyrule Compendium
“At times when we believe we are studying something, we are only being receptive to a kind of daydreaming.” — Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space
Author’s Note: I’ve read Bachelard’s The Poetics of Space at least twice through, never to full understanding, and I’ve reread certain sections and chapters more times than I care to admit. It is a ride through the kingdom of dreams for someone who loves architecture in the way that I do: as something not primarily understood, but as something essentially felt. I am attached to the impressions of a place, not exactly its objectivities, though the relationship between those things is important in its own right. In Poetics, Bachelard coins his “topoanalysis,” being the study of the places of our intimate lives. This is largely the project of this website, though the locations I analyze are not “intimate” to me in the sense of being lived in. However, these locations have taken roost in my mind, and it is in this sense that I push the word even further, not to a site, per se, but to a being: the Stone Talus. This article is termed a reverie because it is a flight of fancy. There is no architecture here to speak of, no formal analysis, nor anything pressing to the scholar, and yet the Stone Talus speaks eloquently to its place in human memory. Let us hear what it has to say.
“At times when we believe we are studying something, we are only being receptive to a kind of daydreaming.” — Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space
Author’s Note: I’ve read Bachelard’s The Poetics of Space at least twice through, never to full understanding, and I’ve reread certain sections and chapters more times than I care to admit. It is a ride through the kingdom of dreams for someone who loves architecture in the way that I do: as something not primarily understood, but as something essentially felt. I am attached to the impressions of a place, not exactly its objectivities, though the relationship between those things is important in its own right. In Poetics, Bachelard coins his “topoanalysis,” being the study of the places of our intimate lives. This is largely the project of this website, though the locations I analyze are not “intimate” to me in the sense of being lived in. However, these locations have taken roost in my mind, and it is in this sense that I push the word even further, not to a site, per se, but to a being: the Stone Talus. This article is termed a reverie because it is a flight of fancy. There is no architecture here to speak of, no formal analysis, nor anything pressing to the scholar, and yet the Stone Talus speaks eloquently to its place in human memory. Let us hear what it has to say.
My first experience with a Stone Talus was the apogee of my Breath of the Wild experience. Wandering in a pleasant daze about the Great Plateau, I soon stumbled upon a woodland glade, all being very peaceful: pleasant sunlight, wind in the grass, birdsong. As I walked to the forest at the other side of the clearing, the ground shifted under my feet. A rockslide? Collapsible ground? To my even greater exhilaration, it was an enemy. I had just encountered my first Stone Talus. As I was enchanted by the Great Plateau—the highlight of Breath for me—this enemy was the highlight of a highlight. Of course, the Talus destroyed me almost immediately. I was in no way prepared to fight it, armed as I was with simple weapons and new to the game’s controls. I was utterly clobbered. Yet, I was enthralled and a bit overjoyed. This is precisely what I had wanted, this sense of disorienting wonder as the rug was pulled from beneath my feet. Even the music spoke eloquently: the sound of hammer on rock, a melodic chiseling against a plodding rhythm, vaguely industrial steel drums. I immediately returned to the clearing and again was walloped. What could be a better sign of the player’s enchantment?
The Talus as Wordplay
“We have done well. There is the land where our fathers worked of old, and we have wrought the image of those mountains into many works of metal and of stone, and into many songs and tales. They stand tall in our dreams . . .” [1]
There are forty Stone Taluses—called Steppe Taluses in earlier versions of the game [2] and Stone Colossi by Kilton [3]—scattered across Hyrule, where they dwell in out-of-the-way places. Different locations present geographical variants of this creature, from the Igneo Talus of Death Mountain to the Frost Talus of the Hebran peaks. The word talus, itself an alluring word, has two meanings apropos to our discussion. Its first sense is geological, denoting a heap of rock fragments at the foot of a precipice. [4] And, fittingly, a Stone Talus resembles, at first glance, a mere pile of boulders partially embedded in the ground. Its second meaning is architectural, referring to the slope of a battered wall, which is a fortified castle wall that tapers as it rises. Though Taluses are not fortresses in and of themselves (though this line is blurred in Tears of the Kingdom with the addition of Battle Taluses, which are functionally mobile monster strongholds), they share a key similarity with any stronghold in that they look unapproachable. This towering up, this unassailability, is psychological as much as it is defensive. The sense of a castle dominating the landscape is “not necessarily to be distinguished from a military role . . . Display in itself can also have a military function, to inspire fear in the attacker before he tests the defences.” [5] In this way, the Talus rises above us, forcing a frightened scramble up its defenses to strike at its heart. The name of the enemy rings with echoes at many levels, making our first encounter with one something highly resonant, even when we are simply struggling to survive it.
“We have done well. There is the land where our fathers worked of old, and we have wrought the image of those mountains into many works of metal and of stone, and into many songs and tales. They stand tall in our dreams . . .” [1]
There are forty Stone Taluses—called Steppe Taluses in earlier versions of the game [2] and Stone Colossi by Kilton [3]—scattered across Hyrule, where they dwell in out-of-the-way places. Different locations present geographical variants of this creature, from the Igneo Talus of Death Mountain to the Frost Talus of the Hebran peaks. The word talus, itself an alluring word, has two meanings apropos to our discussion. Its first sense is geological, denoting a heap of rock fragments at the foot of a precipice. [4] And, fittingly, a Stone Talus resembles, at first glance, a mere pile of boulders partially embedded in the ground. Its second meaning is architectural, referring to the slope of a battered wall, which is a fortified castle wall that tapers as it rises. Though Taluses are not fortresses in and of themselves (though this line is blurred in Tears of the Kingdom with the addition of Battle Taluses, which are functionally mobile monster strongholds), they share a key similarity with any stronghold in that they look unapproachable. This towering up, this unassailability, is psychological as much as it is defensive. The sense of a castle dominating the landscape is “not necessarily to be distinguished from a military role . . . Display in itself can also have a military function, to inspire fear in the attacker before he tests the defences.” [5] In this way, the Talus rises above us, forcing a frightened scramble up its defenses to strike at its heart. The name of the enemy rings with echoes at many levels, making our first encounter with one something highly resonant, even when we are simply struggling to survive it.
The Talus as Inukshuk
“There is a site where there appears to be simply a crack in the earth. But the Inuit say those who are taught to listen will hear the sound ahimaa, ahimaa repeated over and over. It is . . . the land asking: ‘Are you really what you appear to be?’” [6]
Beyond nomenclature stands the actual Talus itself: a mass of loosely connected stones, vaguely humanoid in shape. Shaking itself off of dirt and sand, it stands before us—a massive boulder perched atop squat legs. Depending on perspective, the Talus strikes us in distinct ways, its appearance being highly dependent upon angle, distance, and surroundings. Glimpsed briefly from afar, the Talus calls many things to mind: a glacial erratic, the mythical golem, a forgotten monolith. It also bears an oneiric resemblance to the stone markers of the first peoples of the Canadian Arctic. In different ways, the Talus reveals itself as both inukshuk—“that which acts in the capacity of a human”—and inunnguaq—“that in the likeness of a human.” [7] In its simplest description, an inukshuk is a cairn or stone landmark, ranging from half a meter to two meters tall and up to two meters across. [8] Inuksuit (plural) come in many sizes and forms, though all are comprised of unmodified, unmortared stones plucked from the landscape. [9] Many are piles of rocks, while some have greater formalization as windows that frame specific views, hazards, or paths. Still a more stylized marker is the inunnguaq, perhaps a subset of the inukshuk, which takes the form of a human made of stones. In a sense, all inuksuit are abstractions of the human form, and early instances may have been simple piles of rock with a tuft of grass for hair. [10]
“There is a site where there appears to be simply a crack in the earth. But the Inuit say those who are taught to listen will hear the sound ahimaa, ahimaa repeated over and over. It is . . . the land asking: ‘Are you really what you appear to be?’” [6]
Beyond nomenclature stands the actual Talus itself: a mass of loosely connected stones, vaguely humanoid in shape. Shaking itself off of dirt and sand, it stands before us—a massive boulder perched atop squat legs. Depending on perspective, the Talus strikes us in distinct ways, its appearance being highly dependent upon angle, distance, and surroundings. Glimpsed briefly from afar, the Talus calls many things to mind: a glacial erratic, the mythical golem, a forgotten monolith. It also bears an oneiric resemblance to the stone markers of the first peoples of the Canadian Arctic. In different ways, the Talus reveals itself as both inukshuk—“that which acts in the capacity of a human”—and inunnguaq—“that in the likeness of a human.” [7] In its simplest description, an inukshuk is a cairn or stone landmark, ranging from half a meter to two meters tall and up to two meters across. [8] Inuksuit (plural) come in many sizes and forms, though all are comprised of unmodified, unmortared stones plucked from the landscape. [9] Many are piles of rocks, while some have greater formalization as windows that frame specific views, hazards, or paths. Still a more stylized marker is the inunnguaq, perhaps a subset of the inukshuk, which takes the form of a human made of stones. In a sense, all inuksuit are abstractions of the human form, and early instances may have been simple piles of rock with a tuft of grass for hair. [10]
Above: An inukshuk in Nunavut, Canada. Image Credit: Mike Beauregard, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>
Right: An inukshuk near Enukso Point, Nunavut, 1924. Image Credit: L.T. Burwash, Public Domain, via Wikimedia Commons |
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The many types of inuksuit have unique purposes, from marking a hunting ground to pointing out treacherous landscapes, and from signalling a food cache to denoting a sacred site. Still others mark human remains or the place of a shamanic initiation. On a more human level, they also play a psychological role, keeping the lone traveler or hunter company in the wide wastes. [11] Finally, certain types of inuksuit, called upattaginqangittuq and inuktorviit, identify places where a threat to life is present, or, in the case of the latter, where humans have been devoured. [12] In all of these purposes, we sense the abiding desire to build something up in order to survive and to help others survive. Given the importance of inuksuit in communicating survival across time and territory, the placement of these markers is something deeply considered: “some to be visible from a great distance, others to be hidden from casual view; some to be apparent against a snowy backdrop, others to be viewed from the sea.” [13] Inuksuit are stark and ancient reminders of past learning, and are thus artifacts to be venerated; they are rightfully “embedded in the roots of Inuit Society within songs, shamanism, myths, legends, and stories.” [14] When I imagine the snowbound north and its ever-shifting terrain, I am deeply stirred by the thought of past humans having built their knowledge and care into the land—that these stone beings should keep a human being not only alive, but accompanied. In a sense, the Stone Talus likewise gives life to the land, though, like any creature defending its territory, it does not always welcome the curious traveler.
The Talus as Dolmen
SI MONUMENTUM REQUIRIS, CIRCUMSPICE. [15]
Most of all, Taluses resemble megalithic funerary monuments called dolmens. I find dolmens astonishing things, not only for their ancientry but for their brooding presence even in modernity. They pepper the landscape, standing in stark contrast to the fields of grass that often surround them, grinning up out of the centuries like so many empty skulls. With their unequally spaced supporting stones called orthostats, they look almost as if they are walking—plodding along on an imperceptible journey elsewhere. Dolmens were created largely by Neolithic and then Bronze Age cultures, [16] and though they are most concentrated in the Korean peninsula, where roughly forty percent of the world’s total can be found, the most famous are in Northwest Europe. [17] Stone tombs, of which the dolmen is but one type, were the first architectural expression of an ancient Europe. Among other unknown functions, these tombs “preserved the memories of clan lineages and served as places for gathering, trade, and ritual.” [18] As dolmens are scattered across Europe, so too are Stone Taluses found throughout Hyrule. Dwelling in many environments at different altitudes, the most resonant and imaginative locations for Taluses are in naturally occurring circular clearings—as at Gisa Crater, Gama Cove, or near the Gerudo Highlands. These annular spaces enable us, deep in a dreamy analysis as we are, to connect them to megalithic stone circles like the cromlech. Indeed, some excavations have yielded rings of stone placed to frame funerary monuments, and cromlechs occasionally enclose a dolmen or burial mound. [19] Although Hyrule lacks such monumental stone circles, certain locations like the Great Plateau, the Cliffs of Quince, or Tal Tal Peak, with their rocky environments, conjure up the just such ancient rings.
Ring or no, the dolmen is an architectural marvel. Characterized by large capstones (sometimes multiple) supported by two or more smaller, upright stones, dolmens exude the same majesty as a hill. Sheltered underneath and within these stones are chambers: often tombs, and occasionally communal burial grounds. And while some dolmens were designed to remain open to the air, many were integrated into large mounds of soil and stones. [20] However, it is contentious as to just how many dolmens were buried, with some scholars maintaining that they were meant to be observed, to be marvelled at. Evidence for this is both in the size of the capstones as well as their grand angles—the impressive precariousness of the boulder atop such slender orthostats is something that should inspire awe. [21] In just such a way does the Talus rest beneath the landscape, indistinguishable from surrounding rock, until it is tread upon. Then, a strange mass emerges, breaking the horizon with its haunting form. Once upright, the Talus is awesome.
SI MONUMENTUM REQUIRIS, CIRCUMSPICE. [15]
Most of all, Taluses resemble megalithic funerary monuments called dolmens. I find dolmens astonishing things, not only for their ancientry but for their brooding presence even in modernity. They pepper the landscape, standing in stark contrast to the fields of grass that often surround them, grinning up out of the centuries like so many empty skulls. With their unequally spaced supporting stones called orthostats, they look almost as if they are walking—plodding along on an imperceptible journey elsewhere. Dolmens were created largely by Neolithic and then Bronze Age cultures, [16] and though they are most concentrated in the Korean peninsula, where roughly forty percent of the world’s total can be found, the most famous are in Northwest Europe. [17] Stone tombs, of which the dolmen is but one type, were the first architectural expression of an ancient Europe. Among other unknown functions, these tombs “preserved the memories of clan lineages and served as places for gathering, trade, and ritual.” [18] As dolmens are scattered across Europe, so too are Stone Taluses found throughout Hyrule. Dwelling in many environments at different altitudes, the most resonant and imaginative locations for Taluses are in naturally occurring circular clearings—as at Gisa Crater, Gama Cove, or near the Gerudo Highlands. These annular spaces enable us, deep in a dreamy analysis as we are, to connect them to megalithic stone circles like the cromlech. Indeed, some excavations have yielded rings of stone placed to frame funerary monuments, and cromlechs occasionally enclose a dolmen or burial mound. [19] Although Hyrule lacks such monumental stone circles, certain locations like the Great Plateau, the Cliffs of Quince, or Tal Tal Peak, with their rocky environments, conjure up the just such ancient rings.
Ring or no, the dolmen is an architectural marvel. Characterized by large capstones (sometimes multiple) supported by two or more smaller, upright stones, dolmens exude the same majesty as a hill. Sheltered underneath and within these stones are chambers: often tombs, and occasionally communal burial grounds. And while some dolmens were designed to remain open to the air, many were integrated into large mounds of soil and stones. [20] However, it is contentious as to just how many dolmens were buried, with some scholars maintaining that they were meant to be observed, to be marvelled at. Evidence for this is both in the size of the capstones as well as their grand angles—the impressive precariousness of the boulder atop such slender orthostats is something that should inspire awe. [21] In just such a way does the Talus rest beneath the landscape, indistinguishable from surrounding rock, until it is tread upon. Then, a strange mass emerges, breaking the horizon with its haunting form. Once upright, the Talus is awesome.
Above: Ganghwa Island dolmen, Korea. Image Credit: Taewangkorea, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0>
Above: Dolmen near Sassnitz, Germany. Image Credit: Unukorno, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
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Above: Carreg Samson, South Wales, United Kingdom. Image Credit: Helge Klaus Rieder, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons
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The Talus as Protector and Commodity
“Looting obliterates the memory of the ancient world and turns its highest artistic creations into decorations, adornments on a shelf, divorced from historical context and ultimately from all meaning.” [22]
“For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” [23]
What are we to make of this, when a prehistoric tomb rises up and finds its feet beneath us? Has it sensed us as grave-robber? Have we defiled consecrated ground? In a sense, yes: We are after treasure, and the landscape has come alive against us. The pit we have opened now seeks to swallow us. We are not only near to our own death in fighting the Talus, but Death is near to us. The Talus is a dual entity, being both tomb and tomb-guardian. Throughout history, many have employed guards to prevent grave-robbing, and many cultures, like the ancient Chinese and Egyptians, employed not only live guards but guardian spirits as protectors. [24] With the slightest whiff of the afterlife comes the desire to protect one’s mortal remains, especially if material wealth can cross the boundary between life and the hereafter. For just such a reason were people the world over buried with shells, food, servants, and miniatures of boats, chariots, and houses. Glimpsing into an unknowable future awakens in us the desire for familiarity in death. So we shield ourselves and that which is familiar to us in grand tombs. The Talus is, in many ways, the ultimate form of this protection, being both protector and protected, grave and guardian.
And if the Talus is both inukshuk and tomb, we are not only robbing the deceased of their burial but the world of memory. In hunting down monsters and mining the earth for resources, we are at once severing ourselves from nature and from our own pasts. Without the Talus to populate the landscape, how is the earth given voice? Who will point a safe way across rocky ground? What will shudder in anticipation at our approach?
Perhaps too late will we find ourselves alone in Hyrule. It is telling that the Talus gives us not only gems but its very heart.
“Looting obliterates the memory of the ancient world and turns its highest artistic creations into decorations, adornments on a shelf, divorced from historical context and ultimately from all meaning.” [22]
“For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” [23]
What are we to make of this, when a prehistoric tomb rises up and finds its feet beneath us? Has it sensed us as grave-robber? Have we defiled consecrated ground? In a sense, yes: We are after treasure, and the landscape has come alive against us. The pit we have opened now seeks to swallow us. We are not only near to our own death in fighting the Talus, but Death is near to us. The Talus is a dual entity, being both tomb and tomb-guardian. Throughout history, many have employed guards to prevent grave-robbing, and many cultures, like the ancient Chinese and Egyptians, employed not only live guards but guardian spirits as protectors. [24] With the slightest whiff of the afterlife comes the desire to protect one’s mortal remains, especially if material wealth can cross the boundary between life and the hereafter. For just such a reason were people the world over buried with shells, food, servants, and miniatures of boats, chariots, and houses. Glimpsing into an unknowable future awakens in us the desire for familiarity in death. So we shield ourselves and that which is familiar to us in grand tombs. The Talus is, in many ways, the ultimate form of this protection, being both protector and protected, grave and guardian.
And if the Talus is both inukshuk and tomb, we are not only robbing the deceased of their burial but the world of memory. In hunting down monsters and mining the earth for resources, we are at once severing ourselves from nature and from our own pasts. Without the Talus to populate the landscape, how is the earth given voice? Who will point a safe way across rocky ground? What will shudder in anticipation at our approach?
Perhaps too late will we find ourselves alone in Hyrule. It is telling that the Talus gives us not only gems but its very heart.
Notes and Works Cited:
[1] Tolkien, J. R. R. (1954). The fellowship of the ring. George Allen & Unwin.
[2] Nintendo of America. “The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild—Hunting and Gathering Gameplay—Nintendo E3 2016.” YouTube. 15 June, 2016. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3MtmDoWrV9k&t=970s
[3] “You want to know about monsters? I just LOOOOOVE talking about monsters! Ooh. OOOOOOOH! Let's talk about the huge ones! The stone colossus? The forest giant? The giant sand beast?! Which monster do you want to hear about?” — Kilton, Breath of the Wild
[4] National Park Service. Talus Caves. https://www.nps.gov/subjects/caves/talus-caves.htm
[5] McNeill, Tom. English Heritage: Castles. Batsford, 2006, p. 94.
[6] Hallendy, N. (1997). Places of power. Canadian Geographic, 117(2), 43.
[7] Hallendy, Norman. “Inuksuk (Inukshuk)”. The Canadian Encyclopedia. https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/inuksuk-inukshuk
[8] Heyes, Scott. (2002). Protecting the authenticity and integrity of inuksuit within the arctic milieu. Études/Inuit/Studies, 26(2), 133–156. https://doi.org/10.7202/007648ar
[9, 10] Fitzhugh, W. W. (2017). Mongolian Deer Stones, European Menhirs, and Canadian Arctic Inuksuit: Collective Memory and the Function of Northern Monument Traditions. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory, 24(1), 149–187. http://www.jstor.org/stable/26748330
[11] Heyes, Scott. (2002). Protecting the authenticity and integrity of inuksuit within the arctic milieu. Études/Inuit/Studies, 26(2), 133–156. https://doi.org/10.7202/007648ar
[12, 13] Hallendy, N. (1997). Places of power. Canadian Geographic, 117(2), 43.
[14] Heyes, Scott. (2002). Protecting the authenticity and integrity of inuksuit within the arctic milieu. Études/Inuit/Studies, 26(2), 133–156. https://doi.org/10.7202/007648ar
[15] Epitaph of Sir Christopher Wren in St. Paul’s. “If it is his monument that you seek, look around.”
[16] UNESCO World Heritage Centre. Gochang, Hwasun, and Ganghwa Dolmen Sites. https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/977/
[17] Cummings, Vicki. "dolmen". Encyclopedia Britannica, 31 Jul. 2015, https://www.britannica.com/topic/dolmen
[18] Ching, Francis D. K., Jarzombek, Mark M., & Prakash, Vikramaditya. A Global History of Architecture. John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2007, p. 22.
[19] Ching, Francis D. K. A Visual Dictionary of Architecture (2nd Edition). John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2012, p. 266.
[20] Cummings, Vicki. "dolmen". Encyclopedia Britannica, 31 Jul. 2015, https://www.britannica.com/topic/dolmen
[21] Current Archaeology. Designed to enchant: the great dolmens of Neolithic northern Europe. 4 August, 2022. https://archaeology.co.uk/articles/features/designed-to-enchant-the-great-dolmens-of-neolithic-northern-europe.htm
[22] Atwood, Roger. (2004), Stealing History, Tomb Raiders, Smugglers, and the Looting of the Ancient World. St. Martin's Press
[23] King James Bible, 1769, Matthew 16:26.
[24] See: https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/543864 and https://www.clevelandart.org/art/2000.118 for examples of Egypt and China, respectively.
[1] Tolkien, J. R. R. (1954). The fellowship of the ring. George Allen & Unwin.
[2] Nintendo of America. “The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild—Hunting and Gathering Gameplay—Nintendo E3 2016.” YouTube. 15 June, 2016. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3MtmDoWrV9k&t=970s
[3] “You want to know about monsters? I just LOOOOOVE talking about monsters! Ooh. OOOOOOOH! Let's talk about the huge ones! The stone colossus? The forest giant? The giant sand beast?! Which monster do you want to hear about?” — Kilton, Breath of the Wild
[4] National Park Service. Talus Caves. https://www.nps.gov/subjects/caves/talus-caves.htm
[5] McNeill, Tom. English Heritage: Castles. Batsford, 2006, p. 94.
[6] Hallendy, N. (1997). Places of power. Canadian Geographic, 117(2), 43.
[7] Hallendy, Norman. “Inuksuk (Inukshuk)”. The Canadian Encyclopedia. https://www.thecanadianencyclopedia.ca/en/article/inuksuk-inukshuk
[8] Heyes, Scott. (2002). Protecting the authenticity and integrity of inuksuit within the arctic milieu. Études/Inuit/Studies, 26(2), 133–156. https://doi.org/10.7202/007648ar
[9, 10] Fitzhugh, W. W. (2017). Mongolian Deer Stones, European Menhirs, and Canadian Arctic Inuksuit: Collective Memory and the Function of Northern Monument Traditions. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory, 24(1), 149–187. http://www.jstor.org/stable/26748330
[11] Heyes, Scott. (2002). Protecting the authenticity and integrity of inuksuit within the arctic milieu. Études/Inuit/Studies, 26(2), 133–156. https://doi.org/10.7202/007648ar
[12, 13] Hallendy, N. (1997). Places of power. Canadian Geographic, 117(2), 43.
[14] Heyes, Scott. (2002). Protecting the authenticity and integrity of inuksuit within the arctic milieu. Études/Inuit/Studies, 26(2), 133–156. https://doi.org/10.7202/007648ar
[15] Epitaph of Sir Christopher Wren in St. Paul’s. “If it is his monument that you seek, look around.”
[16] UNESCO World Heritage Centre. Gochang, Hwasun, and Ganghwa Dolmen Sites. https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/977/
[17] Cummings, Vicki. "dolmen". Encyclopedia Britannica, 31 Jul. 2015, https://www.britannica.com/topic/dolmen
[18] Ching, Francis D. K., Jarzombek, Mark M., & Prakash, Vikramaditya. A Global History of Architecture. John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2007, p. 22.
[19] Ching, Francis D. K. A Visual Dictionary of Architecture (2nd Edition). John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2012, p. 266.
[20] Cummings, Vicki. "dolmen". Encyclopedia Britannica, 31 Jul. 2015, https://www.britannica.com/topic/dolmen
[21] Current Archaeology. Designed to enchant: the great dolmens of Neolithic northern Europe. 4 August, 2022. https://archaeology.co.uk/articles/features/designed-to-enchant-the-great-dolmens-of-neolithic-northern-europe.htm
[22] Atwood, Roger. (2004), Stealing History, Tomb Raiders, Smugglers, and the Looting of the Ancient World. St. Martin's Press
[23] King James Bible, 1769, Matthew 16:26.
[24] See: https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/543864 and https://www.clevelandart.org/art/2000.118 for examples of Egypt and China, respectively.