imaginari

I have overthinking down to an art form. Years of practice have cemented this habit in my mind, and now that I have officially reached 60—those golden years, whether tarnished, plated, or real—they have arrived, and they aren’t going anywhere. But what does it all mean? Well, as a newly retired ‘pensioner’, I find myself in a bit of a tailspin. I am no longer young, but not entirely old either, and depending on the weather, I can feel both marginally youthful and entirely ancient within the span of the same week. Don’t get me wrong; I know not everyone gets this privilege. Yet somehow, I have not quite figured out who ‘Nariman Pensioner-Parker’ is. I swear I can still see that naughty glint in my eye, hear my rambunctious laugh, and feel the back-slapping glee I find in the smallest pleasures. However, just beneath the surface lie the fears associated with ageing: health concerns, the accelerating passage of time towards the finish line, and the fear of being completely invisible and...