Thoughts of a Wanderer

Friendship Heights, Maryland. On a sunny day in June, you decide to explore the city. Wanting to open yourself up to possibilities, you pay no mind to an itinerary. Instead, you let your feet lead the way. Certainly, you’ll find a place that is worth your time? One hour has passed, and still you are walking. Your feet are heavy. You do not know where you are anymore.

You thought this would be a breathtaking adventure, only to find yourself out of breath. Now you are descending into a dark abyss. What happened to the sun? You start to feel drained. Your lips are parched. You want to rest, but you have to continue walking. (Remember what your parents told you?)

Somehow, you find a door. You enter, because that’s what doors are for. Or you exit. You’re not quite sure which. Nevertheless, you pass through it and finally find a place to sit.

What have you gotten yourself into? You feel like you are being sucked in a vacuum. This could be worse. All you wanted was an adventure. To take a leap, to take the risk because if you do, you’ll fly — or you’ll fall. You were descending earlier, so no luck about flying. Where did you go wrong? Was it foolish to wander?

Darkness. It’s so dark where you are. You feel some force at your back — pulling you away, or pushing your forward. You do not know anymore.

Step back, doors closing.
Step back, doors closing.
Step back, doors closing.
Next stop: Union Station.

Shake off the drama. You still have a chance. Just hang in there for a few more seconds. You’ll be where you want to be.

Doors opening. Step back to allow customers to exit. When boarding, please move to the center of the car.

Now stand up, or you’ll miss you chance.