The wall was around 12 feet high, made of concrete painted in a dull and somewhat yellowish white. It stretched infinitely to either side, yet I could technically see its entirety, since there was no horizon for it to hide below. I’ve walked along it for years by now.

I stopped, completely on instinct. I saw in my peripheral vision another one of the windows. Without looking, I knew what it looked like, for I’ve seen it many times already, and there never seemed to be any change between them; it was a moon gate, a perfect circle carved through the wall, around 8 feet in diameter, giving an unrestricted view of the other side of the wall. I knew not to look. But I couldn’t help myself. It’s not like it would hurt that bad. Yes it would. Yet I only get the opportunity to ever so often. But there’d be no difference compared to last time. Exactly, that’s the point. I should have kept walking. I can stand here for an hour and argue with myself. Or I can just take a look, and keep going like it never happened. So I turned my head, and looked. The expected series of events take its form. 

First I see the beautiful scenery. The warm sunshine shone upon a field of emerald green grass which stretched into the distance, beds of flowers here and there, next to some shady acacias. Rolling hills formed by the water fountains that provided all this life stood proudly in the distance. It was practically paradise.

Now I turn away, thinking I would start walking again, but end up taking too much time and begin having an identity crisis. The ground on this side of the wall was made of hardened sand, completely smooth except some grains kicked up by years of travelers that have come before me. What seemed like the gentle sunshine on the other side was now an unforgiving pit of fire hanging in the sky, its heat beating down on every little grain of sand. There was absolutely no vegetation, not even a blade of dried grass, for the wall had absorbed every drop of water that could’ve made it across to this forsaken land. It was practically hell.

And I think. What horrible things must I have done before to be condemned to this side of the wall? Will there ever be a real end to this, or will I just keep walking, continuously, for the rest of the existence of this universe?

I felt a lump in my throat as I looked down, yet no tears formed. It’s happened too many times already, there were no tears left to shed.

So, I gathered myself together, and looked into the distance. The fact that there was no horizon made me feel the slightest bit better, as if there being no illusion of an end to this treacherous journey made any difference. I watch my legs as they begin forward for a couple steps, until I sink back into my perpetual half-asleep plight of walking, on and on, forever. I’m living death with a twist, I thought, with my last bit of real consciousness.