We are most like clouds, clouds that gather, rain, pass, disperse, and return again. We are vapor in a seemingly solid body. To confirm this look at your photographs from childhood through now, trace the arc, and see how you have changed over the years. We think old people, like my 91 year of mother, have always been old. They are us in our trajectories through spacetime. When I was young I used to have a sensation that I haven’t experienced for years and years, a sense when I closed my eyes that I was billowing out, layer upon curled layer unfolding out into space. I used to feel I was disappearing, that I could unfold out into infinity and nothing of me would remain.

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