A young woman stands alone at the wall, painting deep gashes onto the surface.
The wall isn't attached to anything. Once, a long time ago, it was a construction site. Then a building. Families lived here once.
Then they didn't, and the other walls fell down, and this remains.
I record the few people who gather here at this lonely wall.
The young woman, who paints her frustration into it.
The young man, who wishes deeply to save people.
The children, who ponder the predestined time.
