The other day I started to think what would be left of my generation in, I don’t know, a century, for example. And it’s sad to get to the conclusion that nothing probably: our way of living, our thoughts, our sight, our dreams, the clothes, books, music that we used to love will be forgotten, buried forever, with no traces of their existence. Not only individually, but jointly too, it’s hard to transcend. That’s one of the constant preocupations of the human being. We desire to be remembered in the future, we reject just to fade away, to swallow our pride and face that we’re not so important because our whole life just last a breathe in the eternity of universe. I’ve always loved astronomy, and when I was younger, I bought a telescope to learn more about it, so one night that I was staring at the stars, out of the blue I got that deeply scaring, but also wonderful feeling of be completely alone and understand in a second of certainty, that we’re all lost in a strange existence whose meaning is out of our reach, but it also made me feel that I was something special, that in the vast silence of universe I was alive, and that live will always worth, because it’s extraordinary.
Despite this, when you get to an age, you have to face the painful experience of start to understand that maybe your time is over and that nothing that you knew will last forever. Of course, all of us know that, but it’s not the same when you feel it. You see how the buildings, the people, your friends, the social conventions of your generation, the old ideals… desappears so slowly, until one day you find yourself staring at the rebellion and power of young people wondering when exactly you changed and started to get old, you contemplate your own youth in their reckless eyes, but you can’t go back in time. Then the world forgets you and little by little all that you loved and links you to this world is catched by time, as one day time will catch you too… but until that day comes, it will worth to keep on living.

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