Crumbling stones, rusted hinges, casings litter the ground like leaves. The birds are singing. These walls have been whitewashed, bloodstained, and sun bleached to their old pallor. The wind laces itself through the trees. It carries news of the same. Everything is quiet now.
Your journey will tell you where you are going. Set out as you will return:if and only if, when and only when, you are ready.