I turn and face it; I press up against it.
It seems unyielding, only crumbling slightly now and again.
I have tried going over it, under it, around it.
It remains.
I realize that I must go through it, though that seems impossible.
I stare at the wall and notice the faint glimmer of symbols--
symbols that seem to hold clues about the origin and makeup of the wall--
symbols that seem to hold clues about me.
They offer diffuse visions of what is on the other side.
I press—a slight crumbling.
I press—a slight crumbling.
More symbols flitter over the surface.
My life becomes a study of these symbols.
Ages pass and the wall dissolves into the sands of time.
I remain.
Written Content G.A.M. cc
Up Against The Wall Vegas
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