I love getting older, I am free to be honest, perverse and idiosyncratic. As a friend told me, I have always been some or all of those things, but I guess I wasn’t really comfortable with myself. I’ve gotten attached to this  fallen barn down the road, it’s been down for a couple of years – it went down the same year as Rocky’s barn – and I’ve sort of adopted it. I come by once a week or so and get out and check on it, to see what’s fallen off, how it stands out next to the old farmhouse and the well-tended lawn.

The farmer’s wife, a widow now, waves to me through the window sometimes but she doesn’t come out much. I just want to notice this old barn as it crumbles into the earth.