Inside the Garden

You strain against the big, rusted gates with all your strength. They do not budge an inch. After a moment you fall back panting.

The chill mist sucks away the heat from your skin and you begin to shiver. The gates look as solid as ever and you stand infront of them panting and aching. It's obvious that you aren't going to be able to shift them by hand.

You notice that in between the abstract patterns, the gates have tiny faces leering out at you. You get the irrational feeling that they are laughing at you.

What do you do?