After getting contacted by my old friend, Francisco del Villar, I made the worst, and one of my last, mistakes. He asked me for a favor in building a church. I was contracted to start work on a “Sagrada Familia”, which I planned to be my obra maestra. “So what rates do you want to do this job for? Keep in mind, this is the church that is paying you!” said Francisco. I responded, “I will do it for simply five million pesetas.”

As I returned home later that day, I found an eviction notice on my door. “Caramba” I thought. My backstabbing landlord had found a higher paying tenant, and I was being kicked to the curb for it. I gathered my things over the next few days and began designing the Sagrada Familia on my very own porch. After all, I had nowhere else to work. I envisioned high sweeping arches and luxurious curves. Giant bell towers and grand interiors flourished with stained glass windows.

After a few days I realized that I still had other projects to work on. As head architect I knew I shouldn't, but I began putting the Sagrada Familia to the back while working on my more immediate jobs like small walls or monuments. I was still out of a house and I realized this one day when it began raining. Rain isn’t something you see often but when it comes, we usually are not prepared. To hide from the rain, I ran into a small shop selling stained glass. There, I met my second worst mistake.

When I walked in, I saw her, with her amazing brown hair rolling down her shoulders, and her soft hazel eyes. I immediately asked her for her name, but failed to make a good impression as I was soaking and hadn’t showered in over a week. She slapped me and briskly walked out the door. After this harsh rejection, I realized God was the only one I truly loved. Afterwards, I rang for the glass maker and asked if he wanted a bigger and better job. After he accepted, I told him about the Sagrada Familia. He said he could probably find a few friends to work on it too.

After that I began my real work on the Sagrada Familia and it was right there, in that shop, that I became committed. With all other side projects out of the way, I could get started on the real work. After a few months of designing, we finally felt we had the base structure and we could start building a foundation. We ordered the materials but they came mainly from England, across the carriage trails. After a few more months of designing we got news that our materials were jacked by robbers that were expecting a shipment of gold. My workers began getting stressed out. They were promised a big job and now had been on hold for four months. The material company decided they were going to invest in boats. After a short month later, we finally got our materials.

I was also beginning to find architectural roadblocks. I greatly believed in no straight lines or sharp corners, but this became harder and harder as I made more and more arches which if done too narrowly, made a sharp corner, and if done too widely made almost a straight line. The height was also constantly rising to give the illusion of people being small compared to the power of God. I also had to think about supports and pedestals and places for people to sit. I had to think of the baptism pool and lectern and podium for the pope.

Once we started work, we realized having to pay for two shipments of materials was a big section of our budget and that we needed more money for other funding like worker upkeep. Knowing this, I began going to church Saturday and Sunday, as opposed to just Sunday. Eventually, we got more funding after weeks of complaints. During our increase of funding though, the Pope died, so we needed a new head of the church. At this point, many began to waver in their religion, and we even had a few workers leave due to this. When I prayed for counsel, however, there was none.

Upon returning from the sermons, I was careless, devoured in my ideas, and didn’t see the tram. The tram didn’t see me either. All I felt was my left side, flaring in agony, as if one thousand tons were crushing my side. Then the fire, first in my legs, spread up to my hips. My ribs collapsed, and as they did, I could feel myself losing breath. Finally it stopped and began reversing, leaving me, half flattened on the ground. Soon after, an ambulance arrived, quickly whisking me to the nearest hospital.

As I was hooked up to a respirator, I saw the Pope, and the Pope saw me. He recognized me after our discussion of more funding and rushed to my side. I told him my work lay unfinished, on the third and fifth junction. He told me “It’s ok my son. You need not worry about work. Just find peace, and repent for your sins as you meet our Father.” Finally after what seemed like years, I saw a light, just a prick at first, which slowly grew. Out of which shone an old, bearded man, with cloud white hair, and a clean-kept robe. He reached out, and I floated up, up out of the bed, out of the hospital, into his arms. Up to his arms where....