I returned to the village, my cart full of bent, dry planks, rusted metal rods and small coils of wire. There was a still intact can at the bottom of all the junk. Maybe it contained grease oil, and yet maybe there was a canned soup inside, it was not possible to tell from the smooth polished outside. I showed it to Baltazar and he laughed, sending me to unload the cart in the 'bank'. Thats how we called a ditch where we kept all common belongings.
"Aren't you afraid that some of these fools would just come and take whatever they fancy?" I asked the old man
"Of course we are afraid, but we can't keep all the stuff in our tents, and besides the fools are also afraid that community will shun them if they steal too much."
Naked man ran between the tents, flailing his appendages shouting about 'the joy of new day'.
"Is this all just a dream?" I asked Baltazar as we sipped our ration of water.
"Maybe, but it's not worth breaking your head over it. Even if it's a dream, it's not one you are going to wake from. This is the reality.
"But how did we get here?"
"I told you not to think too hard, let's reinforce the door"
I was suprised when I reached the gates, ten half naked people working in silence. Some were hauling material from the bank others were just constructing, nailing planks with rock hammers. Soundtrack to all ths work was mad squeealing of the insane or drunk. We didn't pay attention on it. We just worked hard as if impelled by instinct.
Like ants.
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