I wonder if I died today, how many of my friends would notice. Since I live so far from everybody and rarely see or speak to them. How much time would pass by before the thought of my existence entered anyone’s mind? What’s scarier is thinking of people who were important to me at one time in my life, or people I was considered as important at one point in their lives. I think of you. Maybe you’re in Texas or Seattle or Wisconsin or California or Louisiana or Connecticut or New York or Illinois or Toronto or Oregon or Paris or London or Germany. It’s quite possible we will never see each other again. And it make me feel disconsolate. It’s freaking me out. A muted panic hovers over the land. Directly over my head.

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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