CHAPTER 5
Time had always been an illusory proposition. It was terrible what age did to us, how it ravaged our bodies and minds, laid waste to what and who we once were, rendering many of us unrecognizable when compared to the younger, more vibrant versions of ourselves. We did our best to romanticize it whenever possible, and with our most devious slight-of-hand, deflect attention from what was actually taking place happening. We ignored the obvious and shone the light instead on those things we assured ourselves were so wonderful about growing old: wisdom, a greater understanding of self and others, life experience, a simple, beautiful and freeing time of reflection and peace as we wound down through our later, silver years. But that light, much like the things it illuminated, was false
