I’ve seen walls in front of me, with glittery graffiti and notes tucked into broken bricks. I’ve asked the walls to move aside, for I’m the one that matters, not a wall. Even with all the trimmings and trappings. The walls didn’t budge a bit. As shiny as they were, they weren’t meant to move for me. I was frustrated, I pounded my boots in the snow, I shook my fist at all of those colorful but elusive walls. Later, after walking close to my home, I came to a very plain wall, merely painted an icy blue. A raven sat on top of it. I asked the wall to move, if it pleased, for I was polite with walls now after they had dejected me so many times. The wall quivered a bit in the middle and did not move, but revealed an opening, just my height, so I walked through it.