I’d would not mind
to be stuck at 120 years of age.
(Legal drinking age on the moon, of course!)
If I can recognize how delicious the scotch tastes
each time I take another sip,
then I’m good.
Live for the moments
each by each
and not for the mirage effect of
one piled upon another,
which gives the appearance of “age”.
We, and memories, are timeless.