the road to yesterday is paved with nothing but misunderstandings
fiction
edward w pritchard
The road to yesterday is paved with nothing but misunderstandings. Better to not talk about it at all, better to not try to remember or logically analyze anything. Through a haze a wild thicket of sorrow smothered each and every illusion you ever had.
If you must walk along the precipice keep your eyes skyward. Old paths are littered with angular wrinkled frowning faces of annoyance. Don't gaze upon lost Time. Don't reminisce delusional happiness in the cracked mirror of imaginary yesterdays.
Gone it's all gone. Lost Time cannot be recaptured or repaired. Disappear broken Pilgrim. High up the Mountain the air is thin the path ends abruptly. There is nowhere else to go. Face your palmed hands against the bedrock of forever. The path ends here.
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