Thursday, 3 February 2011

its a case of......growing old


In my day and age remembering the star with perfect cheekbones, perfectness in all, captured for eternity by a photograph, an icon and now some years later an orbituary with a latter-day foto that shows make-up has limitations.
It causes a pause in my daily 24~7~365~366 life, what is it all about this existence. A beauty once held as an icon, has gone. It reflects on my age.

There is a television obituary that a star of old has gone, the footage shows a wrinkly hobbling somewhere. I comment on an icon with an affection of knowing what once was, a sympathetic note aired to all and that all happened to be my teenagers. I sit recalling a personality that sparked, I remember an age where ambition was sparked and the fireworks soared to middle age. And now the night is darker. My teenagers see an old person. An unknown taking up minutes before the weather. And the old person is by sorts of teenage measurement a reflection me.

An icon to the teenagers has to be under 18 and sport a ridiculous hairstyle. My icons do not connect with the teenage mind. I talk of cheekbones, she talks of wrinkles. I talk of a spark they see the ashes. I talk of the spirit of the age, they talk of the spirit of their age.

I am growing old.

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