Days and nights passed and the mango-seller kept looking at the cathedral on top of the hill. Then one morning, everyone at the bazaar arrived to see the most astonishing sight they’d seen.
The hill had dissapeared. The cathedral was lying on the flatland, crushed into smithereens like a sand-castle dropped carelessly from the clouds.
Everyone asked the Mango Prophet what happened, and he said, “Have you ever heard of Frank Lloyd Wright? He’s a friend of mine….I think he gave us a visit while we were dreaming.”
“But what does this mean? What’re we supposed to learn from this?” cried the grocer and the oil-trader, the bird-keeper and the blacksmith.
“The lesson is very simple. Have a mango and I’ll tell you what it means.”
So everybody had a mango in the bazaar that day and the Mango Prophet pulled out a book called The Disappearing City by Lloyd Wright, and began to read from it.
“You should never build on top of something directly. If you build on top of a hill, you lose the hill. No house should ever be on a hill or on anything. It should be of the hill. Belonging to it. Hill and house should live together each the happier for the other.No stream rises higher than its source. What ever man might build could never express or reflect more than he was. He could record neither more nor less than he had learned of life when the buildings were built. Regard it as just as desirable to build a chicken house as to build a cathedral….”
“I’m going to build a chicken house in place of the cathedral to mark this event!” cried the chicken-trader.
The Mango Prophet shook his head and went back into his tent. He thought, “Everyone wants to create a monument of what is dying and take up some more space in history, and yet, nothing remains…not even monuments.”