not all who wander are lost.
There were unfamiliar streets, and there was her. There were indistinguishable buildings, and there was her. There were strangers, and there was her. But before long, it felt like it was only her.

She liked the idea of getting lost; of finding herself in the midst of exhilarating unfamiliarity. To be somewhere new meant to be invisible and yet fully aware of the backdrop called life that continuously unfolded with every wrong turn she took and sign she misread. Her sense of direction lead her not to where she had to go, but rather to places that piqued her imagination. They were, more often than not, somewhere outside the [box] of a world she abided to. A [box] at the risk of being sealed shut by the mundane and uninspired. She feared the thought of getting trapped.

What if the [box] would prove to be too small for a mind that didn't stop growing? Better lost than suffocating to death is what she lived by.

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Posted: Wednesday, December 21, 2011 9:02 AM by Imaginer → 0 comments / ++