flâneur

clarity of being alone - by jaron - the way home

wayhome.substack.com · 940 words · saved by 1 readers

I walked through a forest today. There was a gap between a wall of bushes behind a parking lot. I tromped my way through. Unbeknownst to me the opening in the blooming wall led down to a dirt trail, which unfurled into a grassy-knolled, wooden vale. It all seemed remarkably fairytale-like, for being situated in suburbia.

I walked through a forest today. There was a gap between a wall of bushes behind a parking lot. I tromped my way through. Unbeknownst to me the opening in the blooming wall led down to a dirt trail, which unfurled into a grassy-knolled, wooden vale. It all seemed remarkably fairytale-like, for being situated in suburbia. I walked. I walked because I did not want to think. I walked, and walked, and walked until all I remembered was the rocky beigeness of road and smudged faces of runners and bikers ripping past. I ambled through bridges and trees and hills, I stopped at dancing streams and…

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