I saw my myself and my life reflected in the glass, wondered who I was or who I’d been for all these years, 40 years which go by like a dream like a film few blinks of the eyes. Memories hanging around somewhere in the back of the mind trying to hold on, and me pondering over when I was younger thinking about if I was the same person now or a stranger.

I had a dream, a real dream, about being me now, meeting twenty year-old me, thought to myself, my older self, this guy’s a knob, but also sort of felt some pity, I looked lost, younger me, scrambling around in life thrashing around in the water with no lifejacket. It was true, it was who I was, a bit at least. It’s a funny journey, we get up in the morning and go to bed at night, doing some stuff in between, and then doing the same thing the next day, it was hard to see much meaning in it all, because there was no meaning in it all.

I spent a week in the late ‘90’s in Faro lying on the beach watching the waves and the people watching the sun move across the sky eating raw onion and cold baked beans and drinking cheap wine. The times that we remembered fondly and looked back on with joy weren’t the times we were doing anything wild spending lots of money anything elaborate, they were the simple and wholesome ones lying on a beach wave watching swimming in the sea naked at Naxos sitting round campfires laughing like ghosts stargazing.

On our deathbeds we never thought we should have spent more time in the office or wished that we’d made some more money during our lives.


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