I went to a dance theatre production about ageing and the passing of time at the Tron Theatre, Glasgow, last week; Once Upon A Time, two dancers and one trapeze artist all over 65. Stunning, sad, beautifully simple yet full of complexity in its meaning. Apart from feeling decidedly unfit, I went home reflecting on our shared experience of fading memories of who we once were, as strong, young people. We all held centre stage in our own performance. Not much seems to be said about how this sense of diminishing feels, as articulated by those of us who are ageing, into our 60s, 70s and beyond. It's a difficult subject, granted, we're encouraged to stay young, look young but do we feel young? There is a beauty in ageing which needs a particular kind of looking; I saw it last week.
The above image is the residue of who I once was, as a young woman; what's left of my departing self.