I looked in the full length mirror and saw the reflection of this old, maybe an octogenarian, looking thin and shrunken body of vitality. I can barely make out the last vestiges of the dreamer's soul, that piece-a-mania that has been said the name (Pogie! Is my pet name, sorry) and dynamic organization that used indefaticable not know the meaning of the word can not.
I looked again, this time closer to man in the glass. It took me a minute late more to realize that he sports an ill-fitting long hair and premature wrinkling of the skin and eyes had died ... myself. Or what used to me. I almost did not recognize the stranger.
But the eyes seem to acknowledge me.
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