Scene 1: Seoul City crowds in the lunch hour all strolling all perfect and perfectly attired. No, this is not a movie. This is real. Scene 2: me in the Uncanny Mirror. Yes that is my identical identity, my oddness vast forehead, tuft of feathers and cloudy evanescent self. I'm lonely. I like her. I … Continue reading Journey: a play of identity
What a glorious time for old feet, especially of the female variety! Remember the days when nothing but heels would do for a social or semi-formal occasion? If you were into heels, that was fun, for sure. Well into my fifties I was a fan of naughty schoolmarm laceups, otherwise known as witchy heels. But … Continue reading Great times for old feet
Shortly I'm off on a quick trip to Kuala Lumpur, always a great pleasure. But this entails torturing myself over the issue of The Travel Bag. I take the same dirty little green wheelie bag everywhere: that's not a problem. I will take my usual wallet on a string for passport and phone and tickets: … Continue reading Which cabin bag?
In which, despite a disheartening deterioration of the ageing body and some ill-judged wardrobe choices, I discover a salutary harmony between the front I present to the world and my subjective experience of a dislocated identity.
In which the syndrome of prosopagnosia demonstrates and exacerbates the problem of finding a photograph that represents the true identity of an older person.