What is a myth? If you ask a Native American, there is a strong likelihood that the answer will be: a story from the time when humans and animals were not yet distinct. This definition strikes me as very profound, because—despite the clouds of ink raised by the Judeo-Christian tradition to obscure it—no situation seems to me more tragic, more offensive to both heart and intelligence, than that of a humanity that coexists with other living species on an Earth whose usufruct they share, yet with which it cannot communicate. One can therefore understand why myths refuse to consider this flaw of creation as original, and instead see in its emergence the inaugural event of the human condition and of its weakness.