ERIKePub XHTML made using QuarkXPressePub XHTML made using QuarkXPressePub XHTML made using QuarkXPressePub XHTML made using QuarkXPressePub XHTML made using QuarkXPressePub XHTML made using QuarkXPressePub XHTML made using QuarkXPressePub XHTML made using QuarkXPressePub XHTML made using QuarkXPressePub XHTML made using QuarkXPressePub XHTML made using QuarkXPressePub XHTML made using QuarkXPress ERIK 4. Master Garnier and I made it across the manicured courtyard (lush palms, figs, that troublesome fountain with the spouting dolphins that I had designed so well then watched that idiot of a foreman destroy with his heavy hand at plumbing) to the building site. We arrived at the same moment that the half-naked labourers were completing their midday meal of fried, spiced dough balls and ground chickpeas. My master went to rouse them from their meal while I walked back to the site. The foreman, as usual, was nowhere in sight. We had been working in this sandy patch of earth for nine months and the struggle to see my structure rise from my perfectly planned designs was more than tedious.
