Saturday, 7 February 2009


Middle age has thrown her cloak around my shoulders, the distant stalker is now standing in my shadow. The years and gravity pulling on my face. Shouting at me from the mirror. Sadness, as I realise that I haven't yet figured out what I want to be when I grow up, that someday isn't a magical place. and that options, like arteries, narrow with age.

"A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams." - John Barrymore

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