Faded, worn and ageing, she might be, but there’s a time when she was smart, one of the belles of the ball, tricked out in the latest post modern style.
I can see it in her bones. And I love her all the more for it. She’s been overlaid with hideous clothes; mutton dressed up as lamb; and her skin, not well looked after, shows every wrinkle and age spot. Her bottom and bosom sag, and yet there’s a lightness of spirit, and an underlying elegance that allows her to gracefully show her age despite her ugly fashion makeover.
Here I can be myself… maybe I identify more with her than I care to admit. And enjoy the moments that make up my life, regarding less a desire to make an impression.
I find myself compelled to note things that call to me here.
So I will continue documenting these moments.