The wall reached high overhead, ending in a soft curve of petals, pink against the blue of the sky. You couldn’t see the trellises, they had been long covered by layers of blooms. Maybe they weren’t even there anymore, perhaps the wall itself had ceased to be. Had nature replaced man’s construct, built its own dwelling here in the clean air, under the warmth of the sun, in the midst of raindrops and snowflakes?
Near it, you felt safe. The wind whispered and the spinning world was hushed.