We’ve all grew up in cities and we all loved for what they are.
Older respectable white or gray headed people suffocating younger generations as in sons and daughters and even grandchildren in eleven different ways; children imploding in forced embraces, kept quiet in a million peculiar ways, forced to look at their own successful future and crying already about it. About its malice and oppressing stench, so similar to the open gutter in an obsolete village. Dissolving the present in our own future. That should do the trick. Long term trick of a tail, a rare ghostly guest, so unexpectedly welcome. Like the Fat Lady. Singing at whenever day, anytime now, pouring acid rain in the fictitious sunset. There is no better time to make mistakes than the past. No better time to look for them than the future.
There is nothing respectable about aging itself. It is a humiliating fact of life itself that we all try to avoid and cautiously hide from ourselves. Some succeed and some fail but the fact that it is difficult to accept nevertheless remains. Like a landmark or an itinerary on just a piece of the whole map. Some manage to embrace aging and that IS one of the really great puzzles. Unsolved. Red is the color of passion and danger. Let us let it glitter.
StudioZlena
