Scribbling
Tragedy of
Wanderer:
“An intense
desire to search, for what; an unknown, does that matter, for it gives an astute
sense to look around. Search something, search nothing, and search whatever
comes into mind or search for whose anatomy mind is yet to figure out. Must be
a fool to think so, as I must confess, after all who looks for what is not even
needed, let alone a mere intuition. I ask for direction, I scream name of my
unknown destination to passer-by, they keep walking, they do not even look at
me, they are too busy handling their devices, I feel jealous for I am no device
yet.
I search, search
for what I am searching for, I look around, hither and thither, fall upon my
face, I look up-down, left-right, front-back, I see within, I cry, I perforate
my eyes upon my palm and throw them around as if one throws a ball for a dog to
bring back, I throw them to bring me back what I am looking for, what I am
searching for. Oh pity! I find my eyes being run over by footsteps walking past
me like I do not exist and my eyes are walked over dusted, still looking around
for a last image of what I am looking for. Such agony, Alas!”
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