on foreign sand

i was walking along an ocean, on foreign sand, alone for miles and miles and miles. even the seals were absent.  the further alone i walked, the less alone i felt.

i knew i was still alone. but I felt less alone than i feel when i am not alone. it’s strange how that works.

i am contemplating moving to a part of the world where i am but a stranger, but my big fear in making any kind of move is always isolation. isolation tends to trump everything in all of my decisions and non-decisions.

but it really becomes a non-issue when you take your aloneness with you, anywhere you go. one moment it might be liberating. but the next moment it might be terrifying.

aloneness and loneliness are 2 completely different states of being.

although one is never really alone. and who would want to be?

“not I,” said the fly.

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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