Friday, January 30, 2015
I'm not sure if the average bloke is too focused on what he leaves behind. He knows the tide will cover over his footprints within the hour and eventually his path through the quagmire of life will be forgotten. Sure, people might remember where he came from and some significant events along the way, but for the most part, each footstep is filled with silt and awaits the next generation to make their temporary mark.
The old man is, at this stage, focused on the next step. One at a time he nervously puts one foot in front of the other, tests the ground cautiously, supports himself with his cane and advances another metre or so. He's not in a rush any more. There is no point to that. The faster he gets there the sooner comes the end. At some point he stops. Where does he look? He looks down at his feet. For him, the most important part of the journey now is, as it surely always should have been, where he stands now. The past has gone and the future doesn't exist. He can feel the soft sand between his toes and the water on his feet. He doesn't need to know about what happened or what will happen.
Its why old blokes look down.
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