The underwater display of an exhibit in its intricacy had a profound draw. The museum decided to erect Atlantis, the lost forgotten city, enchanting the guests from abroad by the blue sea glow and seaming expanse of this dwelling claiming to have used original archeological evidence to devise blue prints. A photo op was set up at the entry, which arced as a tunnell down to the city at the depths. Families stood in front of a green screen, and later saw themselves in front of the grand scape on a printed photo. Inside the plaza of the city, waterfalls adorned the walls surrounding kiosks of merchandise. Boards splayed the photos of the people from their entry. A great distance covered the span from the capture of images to the selling point. The easiest route of transportation within the great tank was by riding a small whale to and from. If a problem arose at the selling point and I was at the other end, I could glide from the upper surface to the airlocked pool, where I could park my blue whale, dry off quickly in an intensive blast of air, and rush to get a-fixing.
After a day of this I went to eat at a buffet in yellow and dusty field, picnic tables spanned in a straight line, and the sky took on the green of tornados looming. I was first in line to fill a plate at this rationed fair. Red barbeque chicken was the first to slap my plate.
Work Dream 8.18.09