The Unfulfilled Itineraries of Yesterday's Ambitions
Once upon a missed flight, where suitcases spiral endlessly on an eternal carousel, lies an unchartable journey. Perhaps it's a trek through the mundane, where corners of unfamiliar streets are but reflections of LinkedIn employment opportunities.
The remnants of dreams forgotten include pockets full of foreign phrases like "do I belong here?" and "casual acquaintance over business coffee," left unspoken as primary colors delineate a world bordered by denial.
Remember beautiful Olivia, warned against the perils of obscure travel guides? She never saw the sinister allure of the guidebook pages that described sanitized, art-interpretations of tropical locales, washed in irony far too familiar.
Paths reveal paradoxes: planned yet abandoned, imagined yet never realized. A pilgrimage to Mirages Arcadium, the capital of roundabout crossings in still air, could have been a wholesome chapter overlooked by every connoisseur of excruciating patience.
Just this week, explorers failed to traverse that prosaic expanse called "the horizon of inevitability." Even the landscapes whisper, forgotten duties of travelling souls inscribed lightly on uncertain winds.
Hopscotch across destinations symptomatically preferred by pens—which write, unguided, tales only half true.