Dingo the Dissident

THE BLOG OF DISQUIET : Qweir Notions, an uncommonplace-book from the Armpit of Diogenes, binge-thinker jottings since 2008 .

Tuesday 13 January 2015

It's not the senile

who are lost when faced by us,
but us who are lost when faced by them.

1 comment:

Marcus Billson said...

There is the ever lost but sometimes found recognition of you in the face of the senile. There is the lost of what to say to the senile by your closest relatives. And, then, there is the lost lost devastation of being so near and yet so far to this someone to whom you owe so much and love so dear. Ah yes, lost indeed.