الصوت المشترك

Imagine standing at the edge of a road. Not an ordinary road. A road paved with slabs of white limestone so polished they mirror the sun. On either side of you, walls of deep brilliant blue rise forty feet above your head — walls covered in creatures of gold. Dragons with serpentine necks. Bulls with haunches carved in ceramic. Hundreds of them, repeated in perfect formation, stretching as far as your eye can see. And ahead of you rises a gate. Not a gate for people. A gate for gods.