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Too Close To Dusk
A collaborative work of words on visibility and age by two writers
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Spring always seems like a time to reset ourselves and restart our lives. Notwithstanding, this visibility fades with age.
夕陽無限好, 只是近黃昏 — is part of a famous Chinese poem from the Tang Dynasty (618–907) that says, “The sunset is infinitely splendid, what a pity that it’s approaching dusk.”
An old soul I was since young, I’ve always understood the implication behind these melancholic lines. Especially now that I am setting foot on this sunset stage of my life, I try hard to reach and hold on to the captivating yet lamentable fast-falling sun — a lost cause. I see the coming of pitch darkness, or worse, a colorless void.
Many women state that the menopause and postmenopause stages are the best periods of their lives because they get to be who they are. They start to live for themselves, and not for men’s attention. They get to just “be”. It sounds wonderful, but I find it difficult to cultivate that positivity.
Like spring storms, unanticipated, my looks ceased to please myself and others. The few rare glances I receive these days remind me of the glamor I didn’t know I possessed, only to realize it when it vanished.
