I stand for a wall.
Left and right infinitely long.
I look up, looking for the edge.
Infinite far away, I do not see it, so it seems to be.
I turn around, look back in time.
Infinite deep, it seems to be.
I turn again and stretch my hand.
And touch the wall, it’s warm.
A shiver pulls through my back, my shoulders are shocking.
It pulls on my hand, and then it goes back.
I look better, come closer.
I see eyes, a mouth, these stones seem a live.
My hand retreats and I turn my head.
These stones, are looking at me.
I lean back more, I see hundreds, thousands of eyes.
The wall lives and breathes is warm, alive… it’s cold.
I step back and look left and right; the eyes go again.
Infinite high and long is this wall.
Made of rectangular humans formed out of stone.
I frown and laugh, and walk further again.
Looking for an opening.
Some eyes are scared, and watch, others see me not go.
Satisfied and content they appear to be in their rectangular life.
At least, on the surface, don’t know how deep they will be here.
I stop again, curious in their depth.
Perhaps I can pull one out and determine, the thickness of the wall.
The joints are hard, gray like cement, I look better, this will be hard.
Elected prejudices together with sandy habits appear to separate the bricks.
But these hard joints tie them together, I try to move more than one.
The joint forms them, separates and binds them, it conceals their depth.
I look around, look at the ground but find nothing sharp.
With my finger I touch one of the joints and scratch with my nail.
The eyes are now horrified in the stones all around.
I ignore them for now, and I scratch more, but soon give up.
This will take forever, nails do not grow that fast, life is too short.
I walk further looking for something that can break or bite, a stick, book or a sight.
The grass is green here but I would like to see the depth of this human being and what is,
the color of the grass behind this wall