When I was a child I did not know much about death. All I knew was people, after death, stay motionless and after their near and dear ones have a glance at the body it is cremated. Now I’m 41 and is in good health. However, there are already many signs of age-related changes I perceive such as graying of hair and losing of teeth.
Recently, while I was sifting through some of the old files, I happened to lay my hands on some of my old photographs taken at different stages of my life, which made many nostalgic memories swarm my mind. A juxtaposition of all those photographs triggered a recollection of my transit from boyhood to middle age.
Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
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