INSPECT
A column of stone, stacked round slabs once perfect and clean now made soft, crumbling, dried and with scraggly roots protruding like wisps of hair on a 100-year-old head. It is as if the column is turning into soil.
Pieces of stone-soil slough off at your touch.
There seems nothing to do here.
Where do you go?
THIS WAY THAT WAY ANOTHER WAY THE LONG WAY
