nevillehunt avatar

by

When I was young I felt lost for words. Naive, what I wrote was trite and meaningless. My work was badly structured, incomplete. It was high time I grew up I thought. Growing up though was fraught with growing pains. I changed my mind all the time. However, my fiftieth was probably the turning point.

Accepting old age as inevitable, I realised that the older I got (I won't say wiser), the more complete I felt. I had come to terms with myself. I was OK. I was a big boy now. I was one hundred. I was a drabble!

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