I have long believed that aging was suffering, an incessant sequence of slaps in the face from life.
I have long believed that those who let themselves be caught up in this returning wave lacked the enthusiasm to hold on to the sands of the shore. Stunned, I discovered this evening that this is not the case.
Like an unexpected punchline to a hitherto agreed-upon joke.
I had completely hidden — from the outside, it was inaccessible to me — the dis-appropriation of the aging body, I feel more and more that if this body is mine, this body is not me.
Also, if it becomes colored as time passes, it’s not as sad as I might have thought.
Notes & Silence 
🤍
J’aimeAimé par 2 personnes
Are you saying the observer and the observed are not the same?
J’aimeAimé par 1 personne
I cannot say. These days, I do not see the point of such considerations.
Observing happens.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
J’aimeAimé par 1 personne