Monday, January 18, 2010

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.

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