Inside the building, Anne had made a garden. She had purchased the cavernous block at auction in 1995. The first job had been to remove the office furniture, it was 70’s. Dark wood, mustard, grey, muted. There was a covered carpark area, the chairs, tables, drawers, coat stands, bins and dividers sat dormant for a year while the garden was planted in the block. Earth first, laid on the threadbare carpet. Then seeds were littered, small shrubs bedded, saplings carefully placed. Moss and mould made the concrete walls green. Once the garden was starting to establish itself, she moved the furniture back indoors. Within a few months, with the sunlight streaming through the large windows, the building was alive inside. She lay on the boardroom table, her chin placed on her hands, and stared out on to the city. She smiled.
TEXT: Yes, I worked at Morroway. Did I know what was going on? Well…I knew something was…well, unusual. I guess you could feel it, the static in the air. You walked in and, lights would flicker, that sort of thing but, I, well you just thought it was a fault. You know. In the building. But then, people got ill. People got ill, a lot. And the anxiety, everyone was worried, all the time. They said it was stress but, that many people? It wasn’t normal, it was a bad building. The fabric was, tense. Something had gone wrong, and it affected the office terribly. When Freda collapsed. And then David. People were falling. I remember them trying to drag us up from the floor, but our legs just crumpled. Weak.
TEXT: Kenneth was sick of the busy streets, strung out shoppers and stressed sales merchants. He imagined flicking his coat, revealing wings, and flying into the hexacon. He would snug between the angles, wriggle into close comfort. Secure.
TEXT: The Hexadec wall was immense. However, once you chose your individual space, it was small. You selected your slot, climbed in to the restricted individual space and slept. Claustrocomfort, a complete change from the busy free fly day.
TEXT: The light glistened off the central windows, bright sunshine glancing the glass. The Precinct was bustling. Curious passers by stopped momentarily from their hurried shopper scuffles and lifted their heads to the view.
TEXT: Pedestrian. A person who goes or travels on foot; walker. Lacking in vitality, imagination, distinction, etc.; commonplace; prosaic or dull. Maybe if the Nouns looked up more often from their slumber strolls, the Adjective might be brighter.