the old me

I miss the old me that existed long before I was born. That me had so much going for it. such promise. so much potential. the old me had a much better sense of humor, too. it could really light up a room. it knew how to illuminate, effortlessly. and it could see things in ways that other me’s could not. it could read your mind, but refused to do so out of respect for your privacy. it had such respect for everything and everyone around it that it ceased to exist. i guess that is what happened.

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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