I get lost easily. Not lost in terms of sense of direction,
but lost in choosing a direction in the first place. I get lost in the colours
of the trees, the curves of city streets, and the eyes of the people I meet and
of the universes contained in their depths. I get lost in the past, lost in the
future…lost in footsteps. Because in the end the direction doesn’t actually matter
at all. The only solid line that exists is the road—any road, and your
footsteps on it, each one lost and found, all jumbled up into one. Then you
realize that sometimes the most beautiful
view is whatever is disappearing into the distance behind you.
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