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| Montlepierre |
The building was quite overwhelming, they thought, unsure of the
direction to take. Most of its surroundings were covered in green
grass, the beginnings of a garden dawning timidly. The new building was the talk
of the town and most people felt irresistibly and inexplicably drawn to the
place.
A lean, stern-looking middle-aged man peered through
the window from the top floor. “The populace, here they are, like busy bees,” he
said to himself.
The little bees didn’t know it yet, but as in every
town before this, he would draw the life out of them and move on. Well, he
would be kicked out of town, to be more precise, with threats of being impaled
and burnt in the fire.
He didn’t mind. He always left a thank you behind, a palace
of brobdingnagian
dimensions.
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