I used to be a bug with a newborn baby on my lap and a whole adult life ahead of me. That was quite some time ago.
The baby is now taller than me, quick and clever, moderately handsome, reading Baudelaire on the beach... And I still haven't figured out what my life is or should be about. (And I've never read Baudelaire either.)
Where did the time fly? And why? Did it happen to the other bugs too? Even the ones I really liked? Do I want to know?
Surfing on the waves of nostalgie today...
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