For as long as he could remember, John wanted to help a bedraggled corner in town transform into the rustic yet relaxing centre for culture and activity that he knew it could be. With an artificial lake feeding off from the nearby river brimming with all manner of introduced fish and ducks, boxed in by some acres of woodland on both sides, and a direct walk from the nearest public transport connections, the area was perfect for, well, anything, really. Who wouldn't want to work there, taking their lunches by the side of the lake. Or what about spending a day out, doing art workshops? What about having a small stage for live bands to come and play? John was, like the waters of that abandoned lake, brimming with ideas.
After years of working odd jobs and studying, John had managed to put enough money to purchase one of the old buildings on the north side of the lake. It was a massive box of greying stone, four storeys of former office space. He stood at the rooftop, a place that he hoped to maybe turn into a garden, or turn into his own small apartment. He had a glass of wine in his hand, and the arm of his partner wrapped around him. The two men smiled as the mid-morning sun shined on their faces, somewhere to their left, towards the public transport connection. It might be too early to drink, but, man, when you just purchased a building like this you had to celebrate somehow!
John had a plan. Had many plans. And this building, what he was starting to call The Rusted Boat Corner, was the culmination of John's dreams and years of hard work.
The question was: which of the many plans to transform this small, quiet and kind of secluded part of the city into what he dreamed of?
