Hospitality - Part One

For as long as I have walked, I have always come across these walls, rows of hedges that stretched alongside a particular road on which I commuted frequently, by foot of course. Though I have seen greater walls in my travels, this one seemed no less uninviting as any other wall I had seen — or rather 'experienced' would be the word, for walls are to be felt as much as they are to be gazed upon — and I foolishly indulged in my ignorance for months before I dared venture so much as to take an interest in what could possibly lie behind it.

It began on one of my many monday morning strolls, of which I partake in on a weekly basis, for it is such that the society I lived in could only afford to give a man seven days in a week, four weeks in a month and twelve months in a year, going so far as to give death a nudge when we got more years than we should have in a lifetime, though how that works remains a mystery to most men.  

This will be a short (maybe not) collection of Thoreau-inspired chapters (sans the paragraphing style) which I will compile into one when it's done. More soon (or later).