From the bowels of nothing I rose. Conceived from a mere idea, my foundation grew west of the Lady Lake that delivered the breeze. Her cool lips provided the air that tickled my concrete spine. I matured and goods were delivered from around the world; African animal furs, silks from China, and elaborate outfits from Europe. My head blew rays to announce my coming. Soon droves of ants approached, riding dirty creatures that spit char and disjointed sounds. They rolled right up to my art deco'd entrance, shaded by a transportation mural.
Even though the world fell into depression, these were my glory days; art schools, hotels, and restaurants sprouted around me. Worker ants keep my belly clean, and my windows sparkling. My fifth floor had a tea room where the queen ants rubbed antenna with their primped counterparts. Yet there is no morality in immortality; my concrete cracked and paintings faded. Leaves fell and trunks grew. Younger ants began to favor new streets and stores to awe at. Even Lady Westside, fell victim as MacArthur Park; Wilshire Blvd had sliced itself right through her.
One day, angry ants approached and entered my ground. They broke my glass smiles and brought with them flickering orange and staining smoke. Fortunately I locked my elevators to prevent them from spreading despair. This was to be known as the LA riots. I closed my eyes and waited for extinction. Instead, I was given a stay of exection.
A school had bought me. Over the next eight years, they began my transformation. They Botox'd my smile, and colonic cleansed my insides. I am back as the foundation for the Southwest Law School. Still a sign over the Wilshire entrance marks my strive for perfection,
"To build a business that will never know completion."
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