We are most like clouds, clouds that gather, rain,
pass, disperse, and return again. We are vapor in a seemingly solid body. To
confirm this look at your photographs from childhood through now, trace the
arc, and see how you have changed over the years. We think old people, like my
91 year of mother, have always been old. They are us in our trajectories
through spacetime. When I was young I used to have a sensation that I haven’t
experienced for years and years, a sense when I closed my eyes that I was billowing
out, layer upon curled layer unfolding out into space. I used to feel I was
disappearing, that I could unfold out into infinity and nothing of me would
remain.
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