Raging wind howls. The brown earth, the torn, blasted earth.
The greasy shine under the sun's rays. The restless, gloomy world of automatons. Our gasping is erratic.
Our lips are dry. Our heads filled with stupor--yet we stagger forward, ignoring the pain in our pierced and shattered souls...
Moving a lump of sand as carefully as possible to ensure it doesn't fall, I end my turn.
I turn to Hora and say, "It's your turn now."
She smiles and rolls up her 'imaginary' sleeve complaining, "You took so much"
She leans forward and proceeds to take sand from only the outer region of the sand tower.
"Ay that's too little" I pout playfully.
She smiles even more brightly and answers "That's because you took way too much."
'Challenge accepted'
I stretch out my hands like claws and announce, "Here comes the excavator"
I reach and in deep and start slowing excavating the sand. All the while Hora, is making exctied sounds anticipating failure.
