As if things wild, given, undeveloped become the height of civilized achievement. Before cave walls were etched and painted by the first artists, man was a perceptual being without spiritual response, wasn't yet man. Perhaps bones were the first tools, as if knowledge of death began to awaken at the same time.
Most are born within walls and stay within walls. The cold of winter shakes them to the bone, frightens.
A very few of us find our way outside. Even fewer make it back to improve on development, having re-acquired means where they begin.