I’ve been writing more lately than in quite a long while now that I have an hour-long train ride 5 days per week. I have no excuse to do anything but write. So I write. I’d rather talk than write but I don’t know how to start a conversation. So I write. But I don’t type. And I don’t use paper as a physical form. I’m trying to find where the train and the iPad and iPad pencil will lead me. IMG_0240

This train I ride on is the one you’ve left behind. How many years ago was that?

The yawning chasms of memory, hollowed out.

Threadbare and barefoot. Nearly destitute.

Yawns in place of words. All I seem to do these days is yawn. I don’t have time for much else. My time management skills are the worst. And (outside of this train), I don’t seem to be getting anywhere. Something is always stopping me. I can’t get into any kind of groove. All of this dispersed energy. Like sunbeams, slightly out of reach.

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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