There is a space between the walls of Nowhereland, of Neverland, of please-don't-land, that welcomes none yet receives all, and in the interim weeps for them.
It knows not of what is to come for its children. It knows not of what is to come for it. It knows not of what is.
But what is not.
It is not Silent Hill, though Silent Hill is it. It is not the monsters within and without, though it is them out and in.
Not love but it loves.
Not hate (not ever).
It calls Walter son and Alessa daughter, though it is not their mothers.
And in return it is called nothing.
For it is that:
Nothing.
And nothing doesn't exist.
-
Henry finally awakens.