Exodus (draft)

Time was running out of us. Or as one of us said, there was no time to lose.

We were trying to beat the traffic. We could feel it coming for us. The traffic.

I said what’s the hurry? And everyone else said have you looked at the clock lately? I said “clocks don’t tell the whole story.”

The story that began the day an angry god condemned us to wander the sky for 40 days and 40 nights.

What could we have done to deserve this?

Someone said, it wasn’t a matter of what we did. It was a matter of how we did it.

If only we could have done it differently. Whatever it was.

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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