I'm surprised I managed to find my way back into this space after all these years. Surprised that I can still log in, that Blogger hasn't closed down, that I still do give a fuck.
I imagine myself stepping gingerly back into this abandoned little town, retracing the footsteps of years past. With my hands deep in the pockets of my long coat, and face tucked snugly behind a scarf, I face the cold and sigh wistfully at the sight.
Rows of run-down boarded-up houses are all that is left. Old notices from public bulletin boards flutter in the wind amidst the stillness and silence. This used to be a vibrant little town, like many others. Writing was its lifeblood, its river and its halo.
But people changed, and the world changed. Who has time to read for leisure anymore when there are so many instantly-gratifying videos and games? Even I don't.
And with that, the wordsmiths left, one by one. You couldn't blame them. Their skill was becoming less and less relevant. The town hollowed out, and the new highways no longer have an exit here. You have to really want to come here to be here. But you are here reading this, which means you too my dear, you give a fuck.
In this little town, I greet you warmly and shake your hand. There are no strangers here.
Though the many demands of life decide that I can stay only a short time, we shall meet again, on some nameless windswept shore.
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