On the vast plains of wheat and barley, lies an unfinished palace, almost crumbling in ruin, due to the many centuries it has been abandoned. Hanging on wooden stakes as tall as one of the palace's floors, it hovers the ground, right above a small house, made from the foundations of a church. Poised under the everlasting shadow of the palace, that is my house.
We park the car on the nearest hill, and we go down into the house, for another journey of labor, me and my parents. We hear some howls near us and my parents start to run, when i find a hatchet made of wood. I swing it at some thick branches, it cuts through them like butter. I swing