He wanders aimlessly, shambling around in the moonlight. He doesn't quite know where he is, but he knows there are walls, walls and plenty of them. He checks each one, listening to it, waiting for some kind of a signal or a response. He finds nothing.
As the daylight returns, he slowly begins to realize that these walls are parts of something bigger. They're buildings. And though he's meticulously checked each one in his drunken stupor, he is certain of one grave truth. What he wants is on neither side of these walls, whatever that thing is, and though he can't quite explain why, he feels that he himself is on both sides.
As the people come out from behind their walls, they begin to stare at him, so he stumbles back to the thing he calls home. He doesn't know where it is, and the closer he gets, the more he forgets why he's going there in the first place, but he doesn't stop to question it. He's afraid of the answers he might find if he stopped to question things like that.