What does it say about a person who sits on their glasses, time and time again, always vowing that this time they will have learned to be more careful and diligent?
What does it say about a person who begins to relish the days when they do not sit on their glasses, who thinks that phase of their life, that habit, is all behind them now? What does it tell you when it turns out this is all delusion … ?
Because perhaps they are fated to sit on their glasses. Perhaps it is a metaphor. Perhaps an omen. Maybe a ritual.
Whatever it is, it’s expensive.
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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.
The Lost Pedestrian 