the soft clamor of figs

holed up at a doubletree hotel in the city of the Mayo Clinic… on the verge of my final vocal cord surgery, i had the misfortune of breathing in germs that do not belong to me. i know it was not anyone’s fault. but still, anxiety about being sick, on top of surgery anxiety … well, you are not reading me at my best. the best i can offer is my intention to hydrate hydrate hydrate and rebound as quick as quick can be.

and listen for the soft clamor of figs. if you can hear them, all you have to do is listen. what could be more simple than that?

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.
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