as the plane began its descent to Minnesota, the pilot announced his apologies for the turbulence. i wish i could have told him that, really, he had nothing to feel sorry about. if anyone was to blame, it was The Wind. but i was convinced that not even this would reassure the pilot. what could i do to help him through this?

if he were flying alone, the concept of “turbulence” would never have occurred to him. he might feel less self-reproach, which would have awakened a greater sense of affinity with The Wind. there would be no passengers such as myself around to worry about. and maybe if there were no passengers, he might not feel so inclined to wander from one quadrant to the next. he could build a home here, make friends, learn how to cook, build a cathedral, rescue greyhounds, find a partner, find a calling, learn Italian, unlearn everything he had no use for.

Please stop apologizing, I called out, but not in a scolding way.

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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