All around one could see frenetic, feverish, frenzied activity.
Judging from appearance and dress, Vestigo Inani estimated the presence of at least thirty architects, seventy engineers, two hundred surveyors, three thousand bricklayers (including laborers) and five thousand peasants (the peasants had nothing to do with construction. They were hanging around, spellbound, for three hours every day. Their job was to keep the valley luxuriant with trees and vegetables. Of many colors, kind, taste, and intense fragrance).
Then there were the cement mixers. An enormous amount of cement mixers. Extremely tall, some of them. Capable of mixing ten thousand tons of cement at once. With their twirling and low-thundering noise. Tilted like the earth’s axis. Solemn like carpenters made rich. And dwarf cement mixers. Small as Margot Fontaine’s foot. Graceful cement mixers, enameled, mixing cement made of maple paste enriched with beeswax. And a small band that, between pourings, played country music.
Schedule