“Architecture is a visual art, and the buildings speak for themselves.”
Julia Morgan
The bed was more elaborate than anything he had ever seen and the craftsmanship of the multitude of towers surrounding him was dumbfounding.
Alexander looked at his clothes. He was still dressed in his battle attire. His sword was propped up against the bed. He picked it up and gently pricked his finger. It bled. He was still alive. But where was he and who had brought him here? The craftsmanship of everything around him seemed impossible.
Alexander walked toward the window and felt dizzy looking down at the city streets below. His mind could not comprehend what cars were and how they were propelled forward on the black rivers or earth below.
Looking around at his current accommodations was just as mystifying. The wooden floors were about the only thing that made sense. The floor to ceiling windows provided ample light for the space. The ceiling fan was off and Alexander couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he pulled the two dangling chains. As it turned out nothing happened.
Why would the strange ...