I dreamed of a life in the corridors, and now I live there; if life is an accurate description for this place on the way to somewhere else.
The haggard dead wander this mall, seeking a deal not settled in hell. It’s purgatory for the masses.
As I walk the halls I catch glimpses of my life through portholes, hewn through rock. I imagine I could slide back alive through their slick openings.
Hope springs; though eventually I realise that is purgatory for real and not just shopping. So I shift my focus to moving on, and join the shifting sands, drift along.
No one gives instruction, no guidance exists. Only guesswork leads us to realise that if this wandering is to be transitional, there will need to be an epiphany.