20
Brother Peter was an unusually friendly fellow, and when the monk clapped a hand on my shoulder, I nearly collapsed. We had strolled through the building, the monk chatting away like a proud boarding-house keeper, pointing out this and that, until we emerged out onto a sandstone terrace. The range made a hazy backdrop; the afternoon had warmed, and the sun hung like an incandescent ball. A distant diesel toiled away and the spray from the irrigation lines hung in the air.
“Follow me Darain,” he said, and the Brother led me to a large corrugated iron shed. “We still have time to load tomorrow morning’s first delivery. What a lovely day it has been for you, I am quite sure you will come to love it here, now all you and I need to do is to stack these masonry blocks neatly onto the tray o
