I think I’m in the wrong neighbourhood.

Okay, so it’s like this. You either have, or do not have a destination in mind as you turn the corner. You find yourself once again on a either meaningless and/or pointless walk that has some sort of fuzzy destination. The kind of destination, you think exists, or should exist if you go that way. You just finished juggling with the map you tucked into your shoulder bag, dropped your cell phone back into a pocket of your jacket, push your glasses back off the bridge of your nose to, once again that comfortable ou knew you would find.

And then, you look up, and you look around. “Where the “F” am I. This is not my route, how am I going to find that perfect cafe, that perfect bistro, the moist almond croissant I have only been dreaming of since I last had one 23 years ago to the day and only just reminded as I pass one of those more popular non-trendy, weak urban, coffee flop franchise houses that exist in every city almost any of the airlines sly into today. Again, “Where the “F” am I?

These people are not my kind, they all wear looks and expressions that do not coincide with the types of day to day destinationing I have in mind. They are actually holding on to beverages and those damn bags from the cheaper and over produced bakery & coffee shops that only produce them as the demand is so high, and supply is almost as high. They have no concern of individually supporting the coffers of a more interested bakery who charges 25% or more than the bag stuffed with mass production donuts. Once again, “Where am I?

This is crazy, I’m not interested in continue, but I also have a burning need to move forward before the timing of this craving leads to starvation and dehydration, ha,ha,ha.

Fuck it man, is all I can say. “Where’s the F’n map, it’s time to go.”


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