A Collection of Spectacles

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Every post will be an incessant ramble until further notice, because I don’t care about putting effort into writing when I don’t want to.

Sometimes I really hate walking. It’s one of the only ways to get around, when you’re poor, or bored, or when a destination’s just far enough to be considered a pain in the ass to get to, yet so close that you wouldn’t dare waste a subway fare. When I’m walking, I think about nothing in its various forms, while I catch glimpses of the people that pass. Occasionally I’ll spot someone who is strange enough or cute enough to actually glance at. I’ve learned to shut everything down and tune it out, but the details are still hazy. I don’t know what I want so I ask her, because she tells me what I’m thinking when I don’t even know what it is I’m thinking, and she’s usually correct. I guess I want to be by myself, but I can’t articulate this well. Let me drop off this book and walk back to the station. Only, it’s never that easy.

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