Pyramids
A few months ago, on a Saturday, the sound of a tractor or excavator woke me up early. That typical growl of a heavy engine, deeper and louder when the machine is doing heavy work. Slightly lighter, catching its breath, when the machine moves off and prepares for a new assault on the heavy task. Again and again. After my stay in Vietnam, I know very well what that means: a new construction site next door, or rather, opposite the door. Not exactly reassuring. Memories of the rhythmic turning of concrete mixers, the squeaking of reversing trucks with concrete (bĂȘ ton, in Vietnamese), the toiling of excavators, the shuddering of drills, the screaming of workers, the layer of cement dust on all the plants in the garden, and the smell of concrete came to mind. Anyway, things weren't going that fast here. Apart from the excavator, no other machines were involved. It was not about building a new residential tower or hotel, like in Da Nang, but about rebuilding a house. Drastic, though...