Baltimore native, Edgar Allen Poe, had an imagination almost incomparable to any other. He took pen to paper and came up with stories of murder, mystery, and madmen. Even as an adult (although sometimes hindered by alcohol consumption) he had the imagination of a child.
As I age its becoming harder to find my imagination. There was once a time when I could have been equally comparable to Poe, well almost. Where has my mind gone? I can look over my shoulder and see it miles behind me down the road as I keep walking further and further away.
I think it might be time to make a U-turn (perfectly legal in Maryland). I need my imagination back before life is boring and my mind is stagnant. I need to hear a heart beating in the floor and have a raven constantly looming over my head. I need that excitement and intrigue or I will begin sleepwalking through life down a one way street where U-turns are illegal.
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