By Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm
If I tell you my fears, would you believe me? They are no different to yours, wrapped in an ethos of anxieties.
Age shouldn’t define us, but it’s a privilege with limitations. I’ve look into the eyes of a smiling face, and did not recognize it.
My memories lied to me, I’m left with just a feeling of bewilderment as my mind regress into senility, into the deep dark earth, into a meal for worms.
A melancholy of age.
Note 2017
