They said we were stacking stones, waiting for god. The best I could tell, we were just making a clock tower with a big bell in it. The bell currently hung between two mules parked outside of a blacksmith's shop. They didn't have names, but everyone said their ears were perfectly shaped like almonds. The bell was suspended by a small bamboo stalk, across the mule's backs, hanging about 2 feet from the ground; dust settled easily under the bell and sound was absorbed as if carelessly walking into the ocean. Like I said, I didn't know much about why stones needed to be stacked, but over time -- cleaning the surfaces, making things square -- that bell ended up just about where the tops of the trees ended. I also don't think I ever figured out anything about god, but once that bell was struck, pulled gently by a rope attached to the braying of a donkey, the sound didn't walk aimlessly into the ocean, it seemed to wander around in the clouds; maybe a bit like someone sitting quietly alone reading a newspaper.