Went to a place on the continent we all know and love. The host told me eons ago some visitors built a large box with a glass top and buried it in the sand. We put the market on top of it, been that way ever since. It was a shanty town. Women sitting on door stoops making things to sell and kids running in the street. Ragged shantys as far as one could see. They all were similar, corrugated top, sides and an Nubian arched doorway. I thought it was an unusual feature. To spend so much effort to have such an elegant door when the rest of the house was so shabby, there must be a reason.
I stayed in the visitors sector, a hotel with views overlooking the whole town, had everything to make a guest happy only not so big. Hey you wouldn't want to out shine the locals too much now would you? I asked the clerk, why the people were so content in such obvious poverty. He chuckled and under his breath he said practice. He said out loud talk to my host which I did.
My host Carl was a fine man with the most mischievous children, I still think he was running game on me. His youngest picked my pocket, was off down the street with my wallet. Carl laughed, I was not amused and dashed after him. He ran into a twisted rusted old shack, I was dead on his heels. Through the arch of the doorway he went and just as he was a few feet on the other side I let out a gasp that would startle a herd of camels. Opulence, colors, bright colors, flowing curtains, a sweet breeze instead of rusted iron air and birds singing. I felt the tiny hand push my wallet into my hand and the small voice apologized. Carl came in he couldn't contain himself, doubled over in laughter. This is our space via the arch. It folds space so that we each can have as much space as we want. I asked, is it virtual, or something he put in my food? He showed me many rooms all laid out and a spacious court yard and a deck over the sea. We came back through the arch, same old dusty street. I tore away, ran back into the shack to see if I was dreaming. Crashed into a table not far from the door in the middle of the shack. A stack of pots I knocked over made a terrible racket. When I came out Carl was in fits. His neighbor smiled and said the arch teaches great wisdom too. Permission to enter is by it's owner only.
I never told a soul, till today.
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