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July 22, 2015
The age grips back its aspect to age us over our age that is but a compendium of thoughts, aspirations, dreams of fulfilment. We fold the age back, we draw away its skin begging to be thought of as all in all, the extent of us, extent of our life so lived in the realm of the skin, we draw this skin back, where age becomes a footnote, a mere catalog of statistics, a folder of numbers that have meaning only in so far as we give it meaning, a meaning that draws us away from us, painting us old.