There's this idea that life gets better - improves - as we get older.
I'm 66 and I still tend to believe this, but less so, because time doesn't mean that much to me.
Then again, I tell myself: If you live for a hundred years, you'll never ...
I don't have a hundred years. I never had a hundred years. No one ever had a hundred years, not even people who lived for a hundred years.
Then again, I tell myself: things would have turned out worse if at age 14 I hadn't refused to take sugar (they didn't ask.) I still have all my teeth.
This picture is a self-portrait. It was inspired by the work of a famous female artist. I almost entered it for an exhibition. Viewed portrait or landscape, it amounts to the same.
Here, I'm at home, on the sofa, being busy while also being horizontal, minimising the negative effects of gravity. Not sad at all.
Everything is within my reach: phone, seeing-glasses, notebook, pens, computer and book/s or Kindle. Cup of tea. That plant.
In the room the cat comes and goes, meowing of Frida Kahlo.