Rage against the dying of the life

Was there ever a time of gentle maturing toward a peaceful Indian summer? If so, can I go back there. Im 63. My urge

,almost an urgency, is to assimilate the threads of my aliveness so far. I want to disengage from the detail of day to day coping. What the French call train-train. Yet there is a rising tide that prevents me it seems. It’s all remembering your password and the commands in the different electronic screens. All those gizmos that supposedly make my life “easier” just make me work for the machine.

In case there are millennials reading this, there really was a time when you picked up a phone, had a chat and stuff happened. not long ago. Before mobile phones apps and the internet. 20 years ago?

When life was chat, smiles, touch and humour. When we did things together. Church, the pub, football, cinema, meals, public transport, gossip. Even – in my childhood before television. It was all people people and people.

Now we’re being strangled by screens clicks and keyboards. Why shouldn’t I rage against the choking out of our life together?

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