a voice cried out
“if you can’t handle the music, well then get out of the kitchen!”
i could not tell where the voice was coming from. It may come from above or below, or just next to me, or maybe even from deep within me. I could not really tell
So I cried out in every direction I cried out
“What music? What kitchen? I don’t see or hear either one.”
maybe that was the message.
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About The Lost Pedestrian
In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me).
My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
The Lost Pedestrian 