my feet have this habit of falling asleep on aeroplanes. they are the only parts of me that do not suffer from chronic insomnia. they are not sleep-deprived in any sense of the word. they take pride in their somnolence. they drift off, apart from me. even when i am sleepwalking, they will not follow me.
when my feet fall asleep, i wonder what they are dreaming about. maybe they are dreaming about angels because they have heard it said that angels have no feet. but angels have wings, like aeroplanes.
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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 