…exists a place where every great man has once been to leave their mark.
“How peculiar and implausible!” you complain.
Well, don’t you worry, there is of course a reasonable – or at least semi-reasonable – proposition that may explain this occurrence.
It seems that these select heros have managed to remain alive for just a moment before being encased by the grainy cement holding together the beautiful intricacies that make up the entirety of the structure.
These hoards of men have somehow reappeared and strutted along this strange store, leaving behind a magnificent multitude of dented incisions to pattern its shiny surface. Now, slashes of swords and wonderful round scribbles of words are suggestive of the infinitude of tools and mind moulding remarks that have been set free to lay siege to the wall.
Each part of the mosaic has now been carefully sectioned, divided appropriately in terms of the types of men who have chosen this as their ultimate locus of liveliness.
Visitors are aided by the comprehensive signs elucidating the meaning of the messages contained within.
The craziest part of all is that this is no lone incidence…
…Outside in the garden, the societies of the tiny are busy creating similar surfaces of their own.
It is in their high-ceilinged showers, in their tiled toilets, that their undersized idols have been to leave inscriptions of their own.
Microscopes are brought close to meet the florescent light reflected through the green enlargements nipped from protruding ends.
“Nothing to be seen here,” remarks the man in a white lab coat.
WAST WRTNG 