Our tale began as most stories do. Serendipity. Chance would have it that this verdant field would come into our paths and our common ambition is to transform it into something beneficial to our society. An opportunity we owe to the magnanimity of a certain philanthropist by the name of Arthur Agius. Being the eager beavers that we are, the sun barely had time to rise the next morning before our little fellowship rushed to survey the field.
The man behind our madness walked upon it as though what he visualised had already manifested, though honestly we were all guilty of that. That day we mostly cleared the waste that people, somehow blind to its vulgarity, left by the trail. The moment the ground was free of that which marred it, we all took a seat opposite the setting sun and marvelled at our fortune and the beauty of our little island.