Our youth seems endless until the first wrinkle we notice on the face.
Then drama begins. Then we try to erase those wrinkles and feel
exhausted after 4hour-work-out in the gym. We follow “right” diets
naming them “eutrophy”. At the same time all the information about
epilation is very essential. We’d like to know who, how and where. It’s
better to find some nano technologies otherwise all the uncontrolled
growth appears again and again. Males also have preoccupation with this
subject. So here and now about us. And about me.
I’ll become a
crone. People will call me a crone and I will feel myself cool. Me-crone
will be FUCKTACULAR! I have no idea how to become a crone. I don’t have
any crone-friend but I meet old ladies and gentlemen in my life today.
This autumn I and Barbara (my daughter) made a decision to take photos
of old ladies and gentlemen. Let me say, it lasted till the first cold
days. All the people stayed in their dens, so did we. But spring will
come soon and we’ll return into the streets. People are different in the
city. It was sometimes difficult to persuade ladies and gentlemen to
take photos of them. They couldn’t believe that someone could do
something for them without compensation. And moreover we could send them
those photos. It seems unbelievable to them. In the village people are
simpler. Almost everyone agreed to have photos. Women will be women at
any age. They were smiling, patting their hair, rearranging their
clothes. And everyone was mourning that was absolutely not ready for the
photo session. They told me about their lives and it was interesting to
listen. One old gentleman was disappointed to know that I was married the
man of a different nationality. He didn’t give me a lecture but was
upset a bit. Later he said that he was a mullah. I feel uncomfortable
with such people, but he was kind and wise.
I’m not sure if I can
become a wise person, but I’ll become a CRONE! Maybe I won’t be a wise
crone but cool one. Definitely! It’s all water under the bridge so I
will have nothing to fear.
