We are used to see it there, long long, its blue-green surface rippled by the wind, surrounded by larch trees.
Psssttt! Hey! Can you hear me? Hello! Where does this voice come from? It's me, the museum!
I'm right here, in the corner, behind the roundabout. I have a discreet appearance, I have no flashy colors, but you should notice me: I am different from the houses that surround me, I stand out. I may seem a bit old-fashioned, perhaps, but I am a building with several years on its shoulders.