How does it feel to be 102 years old, with so many children of children of children below you, each one looking up and waving hello? When your children’s children are 43 and their children are fighting wars? How does it feel to see a fifth generation struggle to be cool? Does it make you laugh? Does it make you smile? Does stink? Does it ruin? Does it fuck you up?

Or does it make you see all the things they can’t?

09/28/09 -- New York -- 0 Comments