I must find out where Allen is. I am not able to accept his death. Being murdered–the violence of writing that word is too much to bear. Inconceivable.
Perhaps he overextended his innocence and the world crashed down upon him.
Perhaps he truly escaped from reality and eluded us all.
Wherever he is could be unthinkable and mortifying.
Or perhaps it was unthinkable and mortifying, but then it stopped.
And he is gone.
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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