The wall stood before me, enormous, disappearing into the leaden sky full of clouds. I sprained my neck to try to see where it came, without success. Large blocks of ancient stone top upon each other, fighting to see who looked more impressive. Weed slipped between them, as long fingers that wanted to reach the other side of the wall.
Why was I here? What was my purpose? I looked at my hands to see if it was a dream, if I could wake up. Thin and tanned fingers found my gaze, moving like silkworms. I touched my face, wondering if I had metamorphosed as the bug from Kafka, story I was forced to read years ago, but only soft skin stroked my fingertips. I looked at my body, the same as always but in different clothes, as belonging to another era.
I furrowed my brow, I had been working in front of the computer a few minutes ago, how did I come here? I tried to remember what I was doing, but the memory slipped from my neurons like water through my fingers. Soon I didn’t know what was. Confused I turned around, but the wall appeared in front of me again. Should I climb it?
I placed a hand on one of the large stones, and my eyes widened opened at the perfect alignment between my skin cells and the rough rock surface. I put my other hand, and a connection to the stone hit me. I slid my hands up, as easily as the steel of a skate on ice.
I put my bare foot on the stone, connecting as my hand did. Soon I started to move as if on a horizontal surface while my feet and hands slid over the stone without a problem, up and up until there was only stone and weeds around. I laughed till I couldn’t anymore, feeling the wind caress my hair and taking away all bad memories, all pressure, all physical discomfort as I climbed up and up.
The end of the wall was seen, and with renewed vigor, I focused on the end. My right hand grabbed the ledge, and I hesitated. What would I see behind the wall? Did I want to see it? It felt like every muscle in my body tensed up, rebelling to move. And if it was a lie? And if I saw destruction behind the wall?
With the hand still on the ledge and my body leaning against the stone, I sobbed. My tears soaked my cheeks, my moans invaded the silence around me. The wind stopped, listening to my regret. And I kept crying until they left a salty path tears on my cheeks, a tingle on the skin that needed relief.
I did not dare to remove the grab of my hands on the stone, afraid of falling. I did not dare look down. There was only one thing to do.
Wiping the remnants of salt water on my shoulder, I let out one last sigh, and placed my left hand on the edge, and after hesitating a second, I pushed myself, falling like a cat on the ledge. With my knees bent and my hands ready to give support in case of a slip, I watched around me with my heart in my throat. A brown hand rested on the edge in front of me, and soon I saw another hand, this one white, and there another dark as ash, and another one thin, and another one chubby.
Gradually, those hands were transformed into arms, neck and head, rising upon the edge, looking frightened around until they met my gaze. Bent knees straightened up, and soon dozens of people were above the edge, peering smiles in different types of faces. Asian, Latin, Nordic, African…
Laughter took us all by surprise. The first came from one throat, then another joined him, and soon the chorus of laughter erupted in the edge of the wall.
And, laughing, we hugged each other, women, children, men, young, old… And walked out on the broad rim, some hugging and laughing, others side to side, walking until the wall vanished, and we were faced with another, this one even greater.
But this time, large, majestic golden gates stood before us. The eyes looked nervous at the anxious faces, faces that gradually relaxed. And one by one, we entered the city.
And one by one, we leave behind our past life, ready to start again.