Columns

The layout of Enfinity supports until 4 columns, but if you are using a sidebar and you don't display the "widepage" template, one of these columns is already occupied by the sidebar itself, so, at most, you can have 3 columns on the same row, as in the example below.

[hr]

[pix_heading_flag]Three columns[/pix_heading_flag]

[ pix_column type="1/4" first="true" ]
Content of the column
[ /pix_column]
[ pix_column type="1/4"]
Content of the column
[ /pix_column]
[ pix_column type="1/4" last="true"]
Content of the column
[ /pix_column]

[pix_column type="1/4" first="true"]

There had been no mention of such an inscription in the Neverending Story. Could it be that Atreyu hadn't noticed it? But that didn't matter now. What mattered was that the words gave him permission, ordered him in fact, to do whatever he pleased. Bastian approached the wall of luminous plants to see if he could slip through somewhere. To his delight he found that the wall could easily be thrust aside like a curtain. Out he stepped.

In the meantime, the night plants had kept on growing, gently but irresistibly, and Perilin had become a forest such as no human eye had ever beheld.

[/pix_column]

[pix_column type="1/4"]

The great trunks were now as high and thick as church towers, and still growing. In places these shimmering, milky-white pillars were so close together that it was impossible to pass between them. And seeds were still falling like a shower of sparks.

On his way through the luminous forest, Bastian tried hard not to step on the glittering seeds that lay on the ground, but this soon proved impossible. There simply wasn't a foot's breadth of ground from which nothing was sprouting. So he stopped worrying and went wherever the giant trees left a path open for him. Bastian was delighted at being handsome.

[/pix_column]

[pix_column type="1/4" last="true"]

It didn't bother him that there was no one to admire him. On the contrary, he was glad to have the pleasure all to himself. He didn't care a fig for being admired by the lugs who had always made fun of him. If he thought of them at all, it was almost with pity.

In this forest, where there were no seasons and no alternation of day and night, the feeling of time was entirely different from anything Bastian had ever known. He had no idea how long he had been on his way. But little by little his pleasure in being handsome underwent a change. He began to take it for granted.

[/pix_column]

[hr]

[pix_heading_flag]Two columns (1/4 column + 2/4 column)[/pix_heading_flag]

[ pix_column type="1/4" first="true" ]
Content of the column
[ /pix_column]
[ pix_column type="2/4" last="true"]
Content of the column
[ /pix_column]

[pix_column type="1/4" first="true"]

There had been no mention of such an inscription in the Neverending Story. Could it be that Atreyu hadn't noticed it? But that didn't matter now. What mattered was that the words gave him permission, ordered him in fact, to do whatever he pleased. Bastian approached the wall of luminous plants to see if he could slip through somewhere. To his delight he found that the wall could easily be thrust aside like a curtain. Out he stepped.

In the meantime, the night plants had kept on growing, gently but irresistibly, and Perilin had become a forest such as no human eye had ever beheld.

[/pix_column]

[pix_column type="2/4" last="true"]

The great trunks were now as high and thick as church towers, and still growing. In places these shimmering, milky-white pillars were so close together that it was impossible to pass between them. And seeds were still falling like a shower of sparks.

On his way through the luminous forest, Bastian tried hard not to step on the glittering seeds that lay on the ground, but this soon proved impossible. There simply wasn't a foot's breadth of ground from which nothing was sprouting. So he stopped worrying and went wherever the giant trees left a path open for him. Bastian was delighted at being handsome.

It didn't bother him that there was no one to admire him. On the contrary, he was glad to have the pleasure all to himself. He didn't care a fig for being admired by the lugs who had always made fun of him. If he thought of them at all, it was almost with pity.

In this forest, where there were no seasons and no alternation of day and night, the feeling of time was entirely different from anything Bastian had ever known. He had no idea how long he had been on his way. But little by little his pleasure in being handsome underwent a change. He began to take it for granted.

[/pix_column]