The Wanderer
By Tim E
9 May 2011
A wanderer, he slowly drifts with no destination in sight. A man free of obligation, yet constrained by circumstances. Each day passes much like the last: a little worse off, a little more broken. Time itself blows by, wearing him down like the Sphinx's face in the sand. Pleasure becomes more irregular and less impressionable; a smoke here, a drink there. Emotions wither as experiences become static. Nevertheless, he wanders, if for no other reason, for the wander itself. He moves quietly, calmly among the crowd, seen by few, acknowledged by none. At best, he's an eye sore; at worst, his usual invisible self. In spite of it all, however, his demeanor remains respectful. Not once does he lash out, not once do the apathetic masses that surround him become the object of his resentment. If need be, he serves himself well to that effect. By day's end, this is the life he resigns himself to, inured as he has become. For most, his existence is more convenient to ignore, thus he wanders evermore.
(An ongoing project.)
1 response
-
Param Parakrishna gave props (9 May 2011):
I've been quite curious about that main picture from the first time I saw it. Accompanied with your beautiful words, I understand a little more. Looking forward to seeing more from this project.
