Where I was standing, a path was starting from there and it went straight into a very long line.
There were many four-wheelers running at a very slow pace—some were empty and some were full or partially full.
At both sides of the path, walls more than twice the length of those four-wheelers were standing straight and were continuous along the path, breaking at regular intervals by different ones that were connecting the way on which I was standing with equal width.
Though, instead of different paths, there were just small crossing junctions, no greater than the width of those tall walls and the only thing they were doing was connecting the other paths similar to the one where I was standing that was running parallel to it.
I stood there with my mouth open as I thought of what I was really doing here.
I had an idea, of course—why would I have come here if I had not? But I still needed a confirmation and turned my head to my side and asked.
"Why are we here?"
