It kind of struck me today: I am 33, going on 34, and it will be soon. At Easter, or almost, which is kind of strange as it is alledgedly "the age of Christ
". Someone once told me it was a "perfect age
" because of this, I still wonder how the year when you get tortured and killed can be your best one. Imagine (just imagine!) the other ones. When I turned 33, I barely noticed
, because I got distracted
. Things changed a lot in this year that is about to finish and they changed very quickly, sometimes for worse, more often for the better. I will not write again what I have already blogged about, there are already enough repetitions here, but I have been thinking a lot about it as my birthday gets nearer. Maybe it is old age.
Plus on vieillit, moins on aime les anniversaires, enfin, moins les nôtres.
People have often asked me my perfect age, imagining me to say my twenties. I certainly prefer my thirties to my twenties, but if i had to choose a perfect age it was as a child, around 10 or 11. Your parents are still your heroes, the world is bursting with possibility, adventure, and magic still abounds. I remember hitting my teens and wishing away my childhood that remained, wanting to taste the freedom of adulthood. Now I long for the freedom that childhood so often affords us. Perhaps I have a little Peter Pan lurking in the corners of my psyche :-) I wish you a blessed birthday, whenever it is Guillaume.
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