On one earth there are many worlds.
The back entrance was manned by a uniformed guard.
A concrete courtyard littered with plastic sheeting and palettes.
The mean mainstay of an elite.
The front entrance a hermetically sealed monolith of cooling stone.
Mesmirising white marble.
Purring with money.
Ladies in LK Bennett and shiny make up.
Men tall and perfectly formed.
Perfect movie star clones.
Blow dried, buffed and polished, squeezed into monochrome.
The only anomoly the woman's ezcema and the man who looks as though he's not slept for a week.
They have brought a world.
A world so powerful it owns the rest.
Over the years that world and this have tricked us to think that this is it.
That this is the ultimate existence.
The goal.
The icing on the cake.
I love it but am not convinced.