The Gap

There isn’t a day on this earth when someone does not tell me, “Please pay attention to the gap between the platform and the train.”

I don’t think that’s ever been a problem for me. Paying attention to the gap. The gap is all I can think about. It’s the world across the gap that sometimes escapes my notice.

How long to find you. Find you across the gap. If only there were some sign of you, something to reach for. I would go there in less than a heartbeat. If you wanted me to.

I recall our lists. The lists we used to make. Always a new list. I vow to find our book of lists. We used to make lists of everything. Usually lists that would not exist otherwise were we not there to make them.

I wish you could exist outside of memory. Because mine is not the most reliable. And I am certain you will remember that. Unless I am thinking of someone else

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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