west lands
three concrete structures rising up the side of a low hill among the paddocks, angled a little northeast to catch the sunlight.
outside, the westlands are quiet, but you see signs of a small community arranged on the covered balconies: the washing hung out to dry, herbs, vines, and fruit spilling over the ledges, bits of reclaimed machinery, fencing and signage from the surrounding plains, even now and then a face appearing in view, or an arm gesturing over the side.
inside, the corridors are unlit but refreshingly cool. you pass others moving between the apartments, or idling in the hollowed out, shared halls.