The wall towered over me. It had protected me from dangers, real and imagined, but that safety came at a price. I was isolated and alone. As I surveyed my handiwork, I spotted an imperfection. A small crack had appeared. Through it, sound was able to penetrate the weathered stone. Amid the screams of terror, cries of intolerance, and all the things I had fled, there were whispered words of hope. Could I find camaraderie and friendship, free of my self-imposed exile? Was the chance for something more worth the risk of venturing out into the world again? I pick up my tools, still unsure of whether I want to expand or fix the crack in the wall.