Beyond the visible horizon, a hill of stairs extends, descending into the unknown. There’s no indication of its origin or destination - it’s clouded in mystery. Along its vast expanse, individuals descend at varying paces - some hasten their footsteps, while others proceed slowly, with steady determination. Among them, laughter is heard, yet for some, their journey is obscured by tears that flow without cease. Sooner or later, all laughs turn into tears.

From the top of the staircase, newborns continuously emerge. They are Initially crawling, quickly growing up then gradually rise to walk. Stumbles and falls are common, yet each one perseveres alone, isolated despite the surrounding multitude. The staircase, reaching skyward, veils both its beginning and its end from eye sight. Those positioned midway have lost all recollection of their starting point, their only choice to persist downward. Their attempts to get heard remain empty, chocked by the relentless silence.

The cycle of day and night passes, weather transitions from clear skies to thunderstorms, rain is falling. Yet, the descent persists. People navigate this path like acrobats, with eyes sewn shut to their own fears. A moment of awakening may struck some, pushing them to confront to the harrowing reality of their situation, prompting a reflection on the journey’s meaning.

Among the travelers, distinctions of riches mark no real difference; glamorous garments and simple rags blend together. Stepping forward is inevitable; the descent is a common fate. There are no discriminations among the moving bodies.

Some are being caught in a moment of introspection, scratching memories of a carefree summer past that seems so distant and elusive. In a brief passage of time, the reality of the journey resets itself. A missing step may nearly lead to a fall, a constant reminder of the accelerating march forward.

Looking around, the transformation among the travelers becomes evident—youth has now faded, being replaced by signs of age and weariness. A mutual realization that dawns; the path narrows down, unspoken questions hanging between them. How did we get here? A fleeting look backwards does not reveals anything; the stairs have almost vanished, leaving them suspended between ephemeral clouds, with no way back, no descent, only an onward journey into oblivion towards a freezing cold lake through mist.

As the travelers vanish into the water, their voices, at last, find substance, a mutual recognition of their journey’s end. There are no words to be spoken anymore.

Time has ceased to hold any meaning.