You know, you'd think there would be something on them. After living here, at least in the technical sense, for five years, you'd think maybe a poster or two would cover an inch. Some tacked up article. Some certificate of accomplishment. They're okay, though... The walls, blank as they are, still leave you with something to look at without over-stimulation.
I don't mind that they're bare. It leaves less. I don't know if it was foreshadowing, or just subtle silent reminders that this wasn't the end of the line. No, quite a distance from it. By Friday, I'll take another look at them and then make a promise to myself that my new home won't share the likeness. The walls will have life. Character. Purpose.
Somethings change. But the walls here won't.
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