I gazed ahead above the humdrum, the general fuzziness that comes from a melee of conversation fusing together when you tune out. I gazed ahead aimlessly, but all of a sudden, was struck by sight of the tree through the circular cutout in the wall.
It was the wall at the very end of the long, long lonely corridor. It was the furthest away from me, in my eyeline, unmistakably making up the Tree of Life.
Yes, this was nearly the end of my road here, but in all my years, I had failed to notice it. I know not whether this was the architect’s design, or the gardener’s,
The tree stretched through three quarters of the circular frame, branches and a lifeful of leaves sprouting up to colour the last quarter.
It was the Tree of Life.
I wondered if it had been marvelled upon by anyone other than me, I wondered if it was as lonely as me.