The path winds under a series of massive dolmen, stone archways that could have been filched straight from Stonehenge. It’s a decent walk, and the manor’s front porch seems to materialize from nowhere. We take the front steps and without ceremony enter Olygandr, House of Doors.
Inside, we’re led to a comfortable antechamber. Wooden chairs cluster around a coffee table like teenagers around free samples, but the oversized books aren’t that bad. I’d have more of an opinion if they were in English, but the stylized patterns of dots and dashes are probably the height of literary fashion in mimeworld. David’s still lost in downcast thought and thankfully we’re not kept waiting long. Part of me is grateful they’re not trying the old “let’s keep them waiting to show how important I am” game, but
