Our decadent lives in a dark corner, our careless hedonism shamefully hidden from our responsible, dignified life.
As I pass each girl I look at her eyes, wonder how she'd look without the prettiness youth has given her, wonder if
her body would still be so lithe, if her hips would hold against the tides of time and still dance like they do now.
I smile as the crowd passes by, giggles and peals of laughter, a dozen girls with a hundred different colors and patterns adorned
on their clothes.
I imagine how many women now, girls years ago, had walked the same path with the same zeal.
Did time fade them away?
Did time adorn them with more colors?
Or did time break down their spirits to solemn grown women?
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