i rather enjoy the changes. my plump adolescent face never proved the beauty it should have at 20 anyway. the skin clings to the bone a little more, more at home. bone, meet skin, skin bone: "how do you do?"
as far as i'm concerned, it feels good to grow into my face. the body hurries excitedly along, pushing borders, thirsting God, creasing skin. it is only the fool who thinks the best is behind and the purpose mute. it is only the fool who longs for immaturity and a baby fatted face because somehow innocence once rested there. the best innocence i have found is grasped for yet, and stands our victor's garland after all has ceased its thirsting.
the best innocence is a gift that no youth ever earned.