well, so far this dismantling of my previous life is not working so well… on just about every level. i am trying my hardest not to lay the blame on you, dear reader, for not stopping me when you had the chance. because you could have. but you didn’t.

and now look where we are. in a dilapidated Victorian house that sits atop a hill, with no heat and no hot water. alone.

my aloneness has chased me down and followed me here. i keep my bags packed because i am bound to keep me moving from house to house until my aloneness loses all sight of me, and wears down from the chase. i am determined to defeat it. i am determined to live in a way i have yet to live.

so really, the blame for this lies elsewhere in a place that is not you.



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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