There was a lost foundry, where metals were once melted and poured like drinks, a gathering-place of scrap from around the world, relocated to this secret where iron mixed with zinc mixed with aluminum mixed with metals drawn from the Earth's core that have since been forgotten, metals that were mixed together to create alloys both strong and malleable, the beams that built the world as we knew it, that maintained our infrastructure, that allowed us to build that semblance of home among the towering glass trees that swayed and bent ever so slightly in the gusts, the creak of the building letting you know that you were safe, that this assemblage would not snap with the whim's of nature, that the magnetic nature of every shaft in the skeleton was designed to specifically match the furnitire inside, where these same alloys danced in relation to one another, forming a series of invisible circuits that would hold everything steady, even when the tree would bend like a willow wisp, appearing to be nearly sideways to those on the ground, only the grounddwellers could not enter this magnificent building of lost earthly delights, they only stared at it in horror and disgust, as nobody could find the entrance, and nobody could find the foundry, and this mass of people that made up 'nobody' was so many, it was the mass, that volume of the world that is nearly incomprehensible, like the idea of a billion people, like the idea of a million people, like the idea of two million people living in abjection because the world powers designate that that must be the state of affairs, and they wait for the building to snap, and the building bends and bends and bends, but the paintings inside stay fixed to the wall, whether Rococo or Neoclassical, the Greco-roman columns migrated within the tree stay put, anchored into the spine of the structure, and the steel sculpture wrought within passages of the building stand tall, weathering deserts within, in the rooms of the tree with sand as old as time itself and winds that would whip this internal lacuna into a flux and chaos, yet a controlled chaos, one that had boundaries, there were limits to how much the state of affairs could fray, and the tree seemed to be growing, it was stretching towards the sun, like any plant would, it needed energy and it stretched and stretched and streched while its roots dug deeper towards the core — it wanted the world, it wanted energy, it wanted power, to build this tree that would one day become the world's greatest fossil, swallowing itself whole: out of the snake, emerges a Man.