You never write to me anymore.

I write to you all of the time. But I forget to type it out. And then I forget to send you what I forget to type.

That sounds complicated.

It is SO complicated. I wouldn’t even know where to start.

Who says you have to start anywhere?

I don’t know. But somebody said it.

Whoever it was probably didn’t know what they were talking about. I say that with all due respect.

With all due respect. Isn’t everyone due respect in some form or another.

I would hope so.

I will cling to that hope.

Like you have never clung before.

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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