Title from a line of poetry by Philip Larkin (The North Ship, 1945)
Tuesday, July 21, 2020
Slender Interloper ~ Tuesday, July 21, 2020
Just this morbid fascination and infatuation with appearance and appreciation of our mirror image displayed online as photographs, reflective of a past always present, never fleeting, never passing with time, like a sickness or a disease, an obsession with perfection, with ideas of beauty, health and wellness, as if anything otherwise becomes persona non grata, the unwelcome stranger, a gate crasher to a party for the young and naive, the damned within society, so obsessed with success that failure is an unspoken notion, often quoted and repeated by followers of a withered old man, deceased, yet beloved by writers and playwrights the world round, who accept their mistakes as part of a process of growth, learning, and becoming older, ugly, beaten, weakened and worn out by a world ready to devour like hungry lions the beautiful gazelle running through the tall grass, until cornered by death.
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