so now i’m at a caribou coffee. i’m having one of those light-sensitive headaches i get periodically. but i have no headache potions with me. it’s so tempting to ask the woman at the table on my right who is also typing on her macbook. our computers look so similar, you would think she might understand if i asked her if she happened to have any tylenol on her. but i just can’t get myself to do it. i think when i finish writing this post, i will focus all of my energies on sending her a telepathic signal about my little predicament here. and if she doesn’t respond, well, then… i’m not really sure what i should do. it’s hard to think that far ahead.

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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