I have recently taken up to wandering around aimlessly. Okay, so that really isn't all truth, I have always wandered around aimlessly. I'm full of wanderlust. But this time it's a little different. This time it mostly happens with me behind the wheel, driving through the winding roads of the small hills of residential areas not too far from my own home. There is something charming about living on a small street, a closely knit neighborhood...with a view of the city below. Not too grand, not too spectacular, nothing near glamorous really...but there certainly is a charm. And it's the best that I've known. The higher, and the closer knit the trees/houses/buildings are, the more content I am.
Truthfully, I am hoping to find some little niche that I can call my own and just...be at. A sort of little refuge or secret place that you always hear about in movies and stories. A small intimate space that the hero or heroine can escape to. It's a little romantic too, I realize. But hey, whatever. I rarely get into romantic things, either romantic as we mean today or Romantic in the literary sense. Personally, I highly doubt that I will ever succeed in find this little niche. I doubt that even a place exists here. But...I can't help it anyway. I drive endlessly and wander in hopes of finding something anyway, as the meter of my gas tanks drops lower and lower with every twist and turn...
I still look around every corner in hopes that I'll find something.
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